Radio Star
by boreum dal
Summary: Wannabe journalist Sakura Kinomoto finds herself reluctantly becoming a fledgling paparazzo and somehow befriending Japan's biggest rock star, Syaoran Li-who happens to be nursing a broken heart. Goodbye, journalistic integrity and hello, media hell.
1. superstar

**Disclaimer:** CLAMP owns anything and everything having to do with CCS, and I own nothing. Sigh.

**Summary: **Wannabe journalist Sakura Kinomoto finds herself in an unlikely position as she becomes a fledgling paparazzo and somehow befriends the country's biggest rock star, Syaoran Li, who just so happens to be nursing a broken heart. Add a budding love-hate relationship, an army of ruthless paparazzi and a scandalous past with his actress ex-girlfriend to the mix, and it's goodbye, journalistic integrity and hello, media hell.

Hi, guys! Thanks for taking the time to read my new story. It's definitely different from anything else I've done, but I really think I'm going to enjoy writing it. Please read and leave a review! Oh, and most importantly, please enjoy. :)

* * *

**radio star**

i. superstar

_Ask 23-year-old Syaoran Li what the hardest thing about life on the road is, and he'll give you a simple, straight answer: he misses his girlfriend. Li has been on a worldwide tour, the first of its kind for a Japan-based singer, for the last three months. "We live pretty close to each other back home," the rock star says, referring to Tokyo, "so we get to see each other a lot when she's not on location or I'm not on tour. It's been pretty rough being away from her for this long, but we manage." He gives a trademark grin to indicate that he's sincere._

_Who is the girl he's talking about? Well, unless you've been living under a rock—no pun intended—you should know. Li has been in a high-profile, highly publicized relationship with A-list actress Mizuki Akizawa, 23, for just over a year and a half now. Even though that might seem like plenty of time for fans everywhere to get used to their favorite singer no longer being on the market, one can still hear their wails all over Asia—they still haven't quite gotten over it. Even so, Li's relationship status has hardly caused his popularity to wane. He consistently garners popularity awards in teen magazines such as _Candy_ and in online polls, and each single he has put out so far has landed in the top five on the Oricon 100, a feat that only a handful of artists can claim. A fluent English speaker, Li even made news overseas by making a guest appearance in the popular American television show _Two Stories_. The night the episode premiered, his name was among the most highly searched topics worldwide on several popular search engines. _

_Blessed with messy, boyish good looks, a slightly gruff but incredibly moving voice, guitar skills to boot and a hallmark public charm, Li is one of the most critically acclaimed and popular young musicians of his time. If being a critically acclaimed musician isn't enough—once upon a time, he was a critically acclaimed actor as well._

_At a mere 14 years old, Li was on top of the world, setting box-office records for every movie involving his name. Awards seasons came and went, and Li was a constant contender, competing with the best, most of whom were over twice his age. _

_And then came the transition from actor to serious musician. When he was 16, the public got word that Li's next project would be a big-name musical and that he would play guitar for the score _and_ sing. Doubt of his musical ability resounded throughout the nation, for amidst all of the glory surrounding Li, rumors had always existed in the background that his family, the powerful figures behind Hong Kong-based Li Corporation, tended to buy out directors to boost Li's name._

_But the movie eventually came out, and the audiences were proven wrong: the boy could _sing. _The movie was a hit, Li's biggest to date and yet another record-breaker in the box office. The rest, like they say, should have been history._

_However, that's not quite where the story ends. Li was subsequently offered dozens of record contracts and endorsement deals, and for a moment, he was everywhere. But just as he was on the verge of signing with a record company (to this day, no one knows what company he was going to choose; Li has always declined to answer in interviews, and the record labels have been tight-lipped on the matter as well, citing legal restraints), he quietly backed out of both acting _and_ the record deal, and the world was shocked. He went abroad, effectively avoiding most of the paparazzi. Declining interviews and any sort of movie or music offer over the next year, Li had managed to disappear altogether from the entertainment industry. _

_But two years ago, just shy of 21 years old, Li made a comeback as a rock artist. With a huge fan base still intact, he was received with open arms, and now, he's doing what he loves, even if it means bearing the weight of paparazzi and screaming teenage fangirls. But the perks aren't so bad, either—he's currently on a sold-out tour around the globe, and both of his albums have gone multi-platinum. He's set to wrap up his tour in a month, and the star is eager to go home and see his girlfriend, who has also just finished filming the highly anticipated "Wishing Well."_

"_She's fantastic," he says, beaming. "She's so independent and smart, and she's got a killer sense of humor—that's something I love in a girl. There's something so special about her. I feel lucky as hell to even know her, let alone be her boyfriend." _

_Although, as we mentioned before, his fans can't seem to get over it; Li, however, is completely aware of the matter, and he doesn't mind too much. "They can get pretty crazy sometimes," Li chuckles. "But hey, they're dedicated. And I love them for that."_

_Superstardom, a great girlfriend, and the adoration of all of Asia (and possibly after this tour, the world)—check, check, and check. So, what's next for Syaoran Li? _

"_I've got a few things up my sleeve," he grins. "Just wait and see."_

_We're more than looking forward to it._

"'Beaming,' huh?" A young man tossed the magazine article down on his coffee table and ran a hand through unruly chestnut hair. He shuffled down the hallway of his condo and walked into a neat, orderly bathroom, feeling sick to his stomach and wondering why he'd gotten out of bed.

Struggling to piece together moments from the night before, he leaned over the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He nearly jumped back in surprise. He looked awful. There were bags under his amber eyes, which were bloodshot and worn; his hair, messier than usual, stuck out in ten different directions; and his face was days-unshaven, making him look dirty and unkempt. On top of that, he could tell that he reeked of alcohol and cigarettes from his outing, and a nauseating mixture of perfume and sex pervaded his nostrils. He winced at the memories, knowing he had been far too reckless, and he wondered how he had even managed to get home.

"Syaoran, you need to pull yourself together," the man muttered to his reflection.

Syaoran Li had spent the past three nights out until the early hours of the day until he'd crash at random, unfamiliar houses before slinking back home. It was an atypically irresponsible thing of him to do—he was usually one of the more reserved celebrities out there, and keeping out of the tabloids was his own personal way of getting back at the paparazzi. Of course, that had all come crashing down a month ago, when a personal matter of his had been splashed across the covers of every major gossip magazine on the continent. Even certain tabloids in Europe and North America had picked it up to an extent. He'd been hanging on by a thread since then, trying to keep it together, but he'd given up completely when he heard three of the harshest words of his life: _Syaoran, it's over._

Four days ago, his girlfriend had broken up with him. He'd "celebrated" by spending the next three days in a cloudy haze of alcohol and clubs and girls, going home with them, sleeping with them, and then leaving them bewildered and upset as he took off in the early morning, knowing that the quantity of women he slept with would not soothe the hurt that only one woman had given him.

Stepping into the shower, he felt sick with regret over those last three nights. They'd obviously harmed more than helped. As much as he hated to admit it, he still had an awful feeling in his stomach, one that had nothing to do with a hangover, for he was still very much in love with his ex-girlfriend.

The article he'd read upon waking was about three months old—he was most definitely not on top of the world anymore. Two months ago, one of the dedicated fans he'd spoken of had actually climbed from balcony to balcony until she'd reached _his_ balcony after his concert and knocked on his window until he noticed her. Frightened for her life—she'd been clinging to a balcony railing twenty stories above the ground—he'd pulled her off of the railing and into his room, had a brief chat with her, taken a few pictures with her, given her an autograph, and sent her on her way. It had been a particularly odd experience, but he'd thought nothing of it besides briefly pondering the insanity that was young fan culture, and he'd seen no need to call security.

He'd regretted it the next morning, when he saw pictures of him pulling her into his room all over the tabloids. Accusations of his infidelity to Mizuki Akizawa rose up quickly, and no one seemed to believe that he hadn't done anything with the girl, especially when that same girl decided that she liked the attention and lied to everyone, claiming that he'd had sex with her and using the pictures of her in his room as "evidence." Of course, loyal members of his fan base reasoned the truth—that he had perhaps been rescuing an overzealous fan—but they were in the minority, and they stood little chance against the media's sensationalism. After all, the girl had pictures. It was hard to argue with that.

Mizuki had seemed to believe him for the first few days, but it seemed that after awhile, the media had gotten to her, too, and Syaoran felt himself gradually losing her until she finally broke up with him.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it—it hadn't taken him by surprise at all. Initially, he'd had faith in Mizuki, whom he had known for two years before he even began to date her. They were good friends before they ever became a couple, and he had figured that it would take more than a little scandal to break them apart. However, as some time had passed and the reports got worse—and, in his opinion, more ridiculous—it was as though he could see her expression gradually getting more tired, more hesitant, day by day. And then, after a certain point, he knew that no matter how strong their relationship was, it was unlikely to last under the weight of the press. He'd actually been expecting it with growing dread as each day passed. But when she'd done it, he still felt a sort of shock go through his entire system. He felt as though he wouldn't recover from that shock for a long while.

But the world wouldn't wait for Syaoran to recover, because if it did, that would only mean countless more photographs and thousands more words centered around how his life was falling apart, and he wouldn't have that. He wanted to beat them, prove to them that he was capable of coming back. And so he was picking himself up, piece by piece.

After checking his messages and mail from the last three days, he collapsed back onto his sofa and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. He hadn't bothered to answer most of them yet; most were frantic calls from his PR team, his manager, his agent, and so on.

"What a mess," he muttered to himself. Not opening his eyes, he reached around blindly for a remote until he found it, turned on the radio, and listened to the morning news.

"Waaaaaaake up, Tokyo," an overly chipper voice crooned out of the speakers. "It's Monday, the sixth of June, and it's currently seven in the morning. To all of you driving to work, be careful—it's been raining on and off all week, and we're due for a severe thunderstorm this afternoon, most likely after three..."

Syaoran listened to the DJ go through his dailies—weather, world news, local news, sports—with an absent mind, trying to figure out what to do next.

At the moment, he was in a bit of a slump. He definitely didn't feel like the superstar that that magazine article had made him out to be. He marveled at how much could change in such a short span of time. And he was waiting for it, waiting to hear the confirmation that his life was a huge wreck—and sure enough, here it was, just in time. The sports news had just finished, and now came entertainment... He froze, still not opening his eyes, but listening intently.

"In entertainment news, singer Syaoran Li was spotted out jogging last week, wearing sunglasses and a hoodie, perhaps in hopes of going unnoticed. No such luck, though; many got pictures of his left hand, where, as fans know, he always wore a silver ring. His girlfriend, actress Mizuki Akizawa, wore a similar ring on her left hand as well and confirmed months ago that the rings were promise rings.

"But note that I said he _wore_ a silver ring—as I said before, photographers got pictures of his left hand, and the ring was noticeably not there anymore. Now, we've been speculating about this couple for the last month, ever since Li's incident with his one of his fans, but both Akizawa and Li have vehemently denied any breakup since then. But what with the separate appearances at recent red carpet events and increasingly fewer instances of them spotted together, many have wondered if the couple is on the rocks. The absence of his promise ring has only fueled our suspicion. Many are saying that they've seen Akizawa out and about without her ring as well. These two can deny all they want, but—"

Finally opening his eyes, Syaoran turned off the radio before he could hear anymore. He felt a sort of sick satisfaction in hearing it on public radio, that everything was over.

Of course, they didn't _know_ that everything was over. But it'd only be a matter of time before he and Mizuki grew weary of keeping up the charade, and pretty soon, their representatives would most likely announce that Syaoran Li and Mizuki Akizawa were officially no longer a couple, but that they still meant very much to each other and would remain close friends.

_What bullshit._

Hearing his cell phone vibrating against the coffee table, Syaoran glanced at the screen and debated picking up before finally doing so. He held the phone against his ear and tried to get in a say before the caller could.

"Meiling," he muttered into the phone, knowing he was in for it, "I—"

"_SYAORAN LI, MAY I ASK WHERE THE _FUCK_ YOU'VE BEEN FOR THE LAST THREE DAYS? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY MESSAGES I'VE LEFT YOU, HOW MANY _HOURS_ I'VE SPENT TRYING TO REACH YOU, YOU SELFISH FUCKING PRICK—"_

"Good morning to you, too," he said, holding the phone away from his ear with his right hand and rubbing one side of his temples tiredly with his left. Oh, how he hated hangovers.

"Don't you start with me," Meiling said, her voice venomous. "You have wasted seventy-two hours of my precious time. SEVENTY-TWO HOURS. Do you know how much money that is? Do you realize how many handlers you nearly sent into panic-induced heart attacks, how many people we've had to cancel on, how many events you've missed?"

Syaoran remained silent, not knowing what to say. He'd never pulled this kind of stunt before.

"Oh, so you're going to ignore me now. Real mature."

He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said reluctantly, but he meant it.

This time, it was Meiling who took her time before responding; it seemed even she could tell how beaten down he sounded. When she finally spoke, the malice in her voice was gone. "Are you all right?"

"It's been a little rough," he admitted, running his hand over his face. "But I'm back on track," he added quickly, "and I'll work on everything. You can take whatever expenses my absence has incurred out of my bank account."

"Syaoran..." Meiling's voice was soft, and Syaoran winced at the overflow of sympathy he heard in it. "You know it's not the end of the world. You're still so young, you have plenty of chances to find someone—"

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, more gruffly than he meant to. "I'll deal with it later. Can we just... Can we figure out how to fix this shitstorm for now?"

He heard nothing for a few moments, and then Meiling sighed before going into business mode. "All right. Well, first things first—I've been talking with Mizuki's representative, and we've agreed to jointly release a statement that you two aren't together anymore. The split was amicable, and it had been coming for a long time now. It had nothing to do with the fan incident; if anything, that incident made your friendship stronger because it tested your faith in each other. You'd never faced anything like that in your career before and she helped you through the particularly hard parts. However, the timing wasn't right, and you two already felt that you were growing apart career-wise because you needed to focus on your music, and she's going abroad for six months to film her next movie. Sound good?"

"Great," Syaoran muttered, ignoring the unpleasant rush that flooded his system as he listened to the breakup story that had been fabricated for him.

"Okay. Now, regarding the phone interview you missed two days ago..."

He couldn't help but tune out as Meiling continued. Indeed, he was determined to pull himself back together, but he was so tired. As much as he loved the lifestyle he led, he quite loathed the gossip that came with it. He had been such a private person all his life, and that clashed fiercely with his career path. And now that an issue with which he much preferred to deal alone, on his own terms, had arisen in his life, it was to be scattered all over the media, and on the basis of a lie, at that. It would have been a laughable situation if the whole thing didn't make him feel so hollow.

"...and since we need you to lie low for awhile, maybe you could get back in the studio and record some of those songs you've been writing while you're waiting. We need to make the most of all the time that's been given to us, you know? And that way, I can tell the press honestly that you're just burying yourself in work and that's why you've been so absent from the media circuit. There's not a lot they could twist around from that, at least not without sounding catty."

Syaoran sighed as he heard Meiling's voice come back into focus. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay. Okay," she repeated, seemingly more to herself the second time around. "Things are looking a little more in order. As long as the public reacts well to our cover stories, even if they're not perfect—and I think they will, because scandal or breakup or nothing, you're still pretty big in the industry—you're golden. I have to make some other phone calls now. Is there anything you needed?"

"No, I'm fine," Syaoran responded, relieved that the call was ending. "Sorry about the mess," he said awkwardly, scratching his head. He wasn't used to apologizing.

"Well, thankfully, I haven't heard anything about any paparazzi catching you on your little post-breakup rampage. And it's the first time you've had a slip-up like this, and I know it's not in your character to just go missing for days at a time. As long as it doesn't become a habit, it's nothing I can't fix. You know that."

"Yeah."

"All right. I'll shoot you a text later. Er... And one more thing..."

"What?" Syaoran said warily.

"Matsura wanted you back in the studio starting _today_, if I could get a hold of you... He's a little pissed, you know?"

"Yeah..." Syaoran couldn't bring himself to complain; he knew he had wasted a great deal of money and may have even gotten some people fired in the wake of his three days' disappearance. As such, he knew he had no right to dispute what really wasn't _terribly _hard work as far as his schedule went. Still, he did not look forward to the idea of dragging himself out of his apartment for the day, and he had a fleeting suspicion that Hideki Matsura, the head of the record label to which Syaoran was signed, had made this order more out of rebuke than out of a true need for Syaoran to work. Although he watched over Syaoran the way a father would, it also meant he could be a little overbearing.

Meiling seemed to be able to hear all of this in Syaoran's one-word response. "Yeah... Look, tell you what. I'll pull some strings. Take today off, regroup... And get yourself in the studio first thing tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Thanks, Meiling."

"I'm only doing this so Auntie Yelan doesn't come after me for overworking you."

"Right," Syaoran said, feeling himself grin a little.

After the phone call ended, Syaoran had to resist the urge to get back in bed. Just that little discussion had drained him. Meiling, his PR agent, manager, and representative since his comeback and his closest cousin, was wonderful at what she did—but she was so good at it because she was so aggressive, and it could be exhausting at times like these. He could tell that she was worried about him, but she also knew that he didn't react well to sympathy. Because she preferred, like most people, not to press his buttons, she was all-business about the matter, but Syaoran couldn't figure out if that was what he wanted.

Deciding to go for a jog to clear his head a little, he headed to his room, stripping himself and throwing on a t-shirt and shorts. When he pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser drawer, he glanced at the silver promise ring that lay on the dresser top, standing out brightly against the dark cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at it, he found himself tempted to throw it away, but he instead grabbed his sneakers and walked out the door. Like everything else in his life, he'd figure out what to do with it later.

* * *

"Mr. Li, when exactly did you and Miss Akizawa end your relationship?"

"Was the breakup nasty?"

"Have you been seeing another woman?"

"How will this affect your music?"

"What about the fan who climbed your balcony a month ago? Are you still in contact with her?"

"Syaoran, Syaoran, look here, smile for the camera—"

_Slam._

Syaoran sighed, satisfied that the sound of the car door closing had effectively cut off the sound of all the reporters asking questions, of their cameras clicking.

"What, the paparazzi is on a first-name basis with me now?" he muttered dryly.

Meiling, who'd been beside him the entire time, snickered. "Just be glad they haven't given you a nickname yet."

"If they start calling me 'Syao' or some shit like that, some noses might end up being broken."

"Not on my watch. We're trying to _fix_ your image, remember?" Meiling said, a hint of seriousness to her voice as the driver began to move the car away from the blinding flashes of the cameras.

Four days had passed since Meiling and Mizuki's representative had released the confirmation of Syaoran's breakup. They had done so through a joint statement in _Hito_ magazine, which presented the best cross between mainstream and reliable celebrity news. All had gone as planned; as Meiling had predicted, the general press had received the news relatively well, running the story without any kind of nasty commentary—save for the tabloids, but that was to be expected. A quick scanning of online forums and fansites, however, showed that fans in general were still speculative, as most (rightly) believed the scandal and the breakup to be too close together to be coincidence. Syaoran had expected this—it was only reasonable, he thought. People weren't stupid. Meiling had also reported, though, that in spite of fans' doubt, their words weren't harsh; most expressed a desire for a successful comeback regardless. Syaoran wouldn't have admitted it, but he was touched by the support.

The paparazzi, of course, were a different story. They hounded Syaoran now more than ever, following him on the streets, waiting outside his apartment, and shoving microphones and cameras in his face, their questions even more intrusive and outlandish than before.

Meiling, however, was a veritable PR wiz, as she was incredibly adept at predicting people's reactions to various situations; it made her strategic planning on point with a near-one hundred percent success rate. She was also firm, aggressive, and good with words, a combination that made her a force to be reckoned with. Thus, Syaoran didn't particularly worry about the handling of his image. While it exasperated him that so many people around him seemed to care what the public's skewed idea of the truth was, he knew whatever damage had been done would be erased sooner than later, if he followed Meiling's directions.

And it was under Meiling's direction that they were in the car now, on the way to Hiiragizawa Publications for a meeting. Many of Asia's most popular magazines ran under this publication company, and Meiling hoped to book Syaoran for the covers of several of these magazines six or seven months in advance to coincide with the release of his new album. An additional part of her "battle plan," as she'd called it, was to book him for smaller, non-cover interviews in the meantime. "For these," she'd said to him, "be as honest as you can without doing any damage. Honesty will make you seem more accessible to the public."

Meiling was confident enough in Syaoran's star power to feel certain that they could secure these covers, even after the scandal. And even if they couldn't depend on his star power alone, Syaoran held the ultimate trump card—he had been friends with current vice president and the son of the CEO of Hiiragizawa Publications, Eriol Hiiragizawa, since they were toddlers.

"Still," Meiling had warned, "don't get cocky. These people are doing you a huge favor."

As much as he appreciated Meiling's grand plan to get him back on his feet, he absolutely hated that he couldn't merely tell the truth and go back to doing what he loved. He realized the public's acceptance was important, and he appreciated his fans very much; but why were they so quick to believe the bad when it took a world's worth of effort to convince them of the good? It was a side to his job that he loathed, and running around doing damage repair like this made him feel as though he were being untrue to himself, catering to people who didn't believe in him when he had all he needed—the people who mattered to him certainly believed in him.

"Oh, how lovely," Meiling said wryly, breaking Syaoran out of his thoughts. The car came to a stop in front of Hiiragizawa Publications, and she lowered her sunglasses to get a better look out the window, not that she particularly needed it—the crowd of paparazzi awaiting them between the car and the building would have been quite visible even from a block away. Meiling muttered a few profane words under her breath and turned to Syaoran. "Ready?"

"When am I not?" Syaoran responded, placing his own sunglasses over his eyes, and with that, both stepped out of the car and into the throng of people.

* * *

_Hito_'s "Stars to Watch" Profiles: Syaoran Li

Two years prior

_SYAORAN LI_

_Date of Birth: July 13_

_Where you've seen him: Li was a critically acclaimed child actor, appearing in high-profile films such as _Missing Man _and the musical _Nightlight _and holding his own against an impressive roster of veteran actors—Sokori Mizuhara and Azuru Watanabe, to name a few. After years on hiatus, Li is back on the scene, this time as a musician. His first single, _Where You Are_, just debuted at an impressive no. 12 on the Oricon 100._

_What he's doing now: Promotions for _Where You Are_; he's just wrapped filming for the music video, he says, which puts his acting chops to use. "It's a mini-movie, basically. Pretty dramatic stuff," Li says. Keep an eye out for him as he hits the variety and talk show circuit in the coming weeks._

_On _Where You Are: _"The concept is standard. But I did try to add something different—something with feeling, you know? I wanted the listener to hear it in the words and in my voice, how broken this narrator feels. I hope I got it right."_

_On his own heartbreak: "Hasn't happened yet," he shrugs. "I haven't had much time for a serious relationship. It was all business when I was a kid, and then on my break, I focused on school and music. And now, I'm so busy that I don't really even have time to sleep, let alone to date."_

_On his single status: "Well, who's not looking? Even if you say you're not looking for someone, you kind of are subconsciously. I won't say I'm going out of my way to be with anyone, but if someone happens to appear in my life and I realize it, great."_

_Why he catches our eye: Aside from the obvious—impressive history, stunning good looks, and soulful voice—it seems that Li left the scene as a teenage boy and has come back a true man. Despite some critics saying that the naturally reserved Li seems far too reluctant to reveal much of his true self to the public to maintain his level of popularity, we think his personality actually shines through his interviews. Li is at once humble and confident, precise in what he wants and yet gracious about what he can't have—yet. "I'm not expecting instant stardom or even any kind of crazy level of success," he says, laughing at the prospect when it's proposed to him. "I just kind of wanted to try this out. I've always loved music. I'm surprised I even got on the Oricon 100 with this single. I'm deeply honored." Well, Syaoran, we're not surprised at all; in fact, we expect great, great things from you in the future. No pressure._

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That's it for chapter one! Next chapter will be about Sakura. I hope this was a good read so far! I'll definitely be posting soon, as chapter two is already written out and just awaiting some editing. Thank you so much for reading, and please leave a review if you can! Happy holidays.

Love,

boreum dal


	2. paparazzo

hi, guys! just a quick note: i'm actually editing these chapters now (months and some a year or so after i've posted them, so i'm making a few changes! of course i'm editing the story as well, but i am, for the most part, getting rid of the author's notes at the beginnings of these chapters, because i mainly just use them for apologies for my lateness and gratitude for my reviews. i'll keep the notes at the end, because i like to explain certain things there and give you updates on how the next chapter is coming along. but i want you guys to know that just because i'm removing the notes from the front of the chapter doesn't mean that i'm not sorry that i don't update as frequently as you'd like-i do try, as hard as it is to believe, haha-and it also doesn't mean that i'm not thankful for your reviews. you are all so thoughtful and wonderful for leaving me such great reviews with each chapter, even when i post a chapter that i feel did not deserve so many. so, please just remember that you always have my permanent thanks (and apologies, haha). enjoy the story (and its rewrite!).

* * *

**radio star**

ii. paparazzo

Sakura Kinomoto pushed her shopping cart slowly through the supermarket, mentally kicking herself for forgetting to bring a grocery list. Worried she'd forget to buy something or another that she needed—and she always did—she had resorted to walking around the entire store to peruse the shelves and see if anything stood out to her.

Finding herself at the office supplies aisle, she stopped. _You don't need more notebooks and pens,_ she chided herself, but really, who was she kidding? After hesitating only for a second, Sakura gleefully pushed her cart through the aisle and pored over the colorful notebooks and various packets of pens, reacting to the supplies as a child would to the content of a candy store.

Sakura was an aspiring journalist with a natural love for writing, and as such, she had a bit of a fetish for pretty notebooks and good pens. She had plenty at home that were unused, most notebooks only half-filled, but there was something magnificent to her about opening a blank notebook and knowing she had the power to fill it to its brim. She was addicted to the feeling, and so she found herself engaging in the bad habit of buying too many supplies when she didn't even need them.

Sighing, she forced herself to push her cart onward and out of the aisle. She'd been eyeing a cute notebook with a cartoon dog on the front that reminded her a good bit of her own dog, Kero; but she remembered her dwindling bank account and reminded herself she couldn't afford to spend money on anything she didn't need at the moment.

A recent college graduate, Sakura had ended her post-secondary education on a high note, earning high marks and a bachelor's degree with honors in journalism. She specialized in magazines and newspapers, but she was also proficient in web design and photojournalism, and she had interned for Internet news sources as well to adapt to the times. She planned on taking a couple of years off to intern with a respectable magazine, and then she hoped to attend a graduate school of her choice.

These were the facts she had listed on her résumé, which, while impressive, had failed to get her any kind of interview with any magazine to which she had applied. Everyone was reluctant to hire at the moment because the economy was in a terrible place, which meant that people were cutting things they deemed unnecessary—magazines and newspapers, for instance—out of their usual budget. Without the right connections, Sakura didn't have much hope of being hired anywhere, regardless of how good her history was.

It had been two months now that Sakura had been out of school. The only place that had called her back had done so not because of her résumé, she later found out, but because her best friend's mother, a friend of the fashion industry, had pulled what strings she could to get Sakura a job. But she had managed to bomb even that, letting her nerves get to her; she was not surprised when they did not invite her back for a job. What kind of magazine would want a bumbling, clumsy girl who didn't seem to know what she was doing to write for them? In all reality, Sakura prided herself somewhat on her writing skills and her ability to catch the audience's attention with her words, no matter the subject. But ultimately, she had been unprepared for the sudden interview, and consequently, she was unable to convey or demonstrate these abilities in the process.

As she pushed her cart up to the checkout counter, Sakura willed herself not to wince at the price of the groceries. _And these are just the bare necessities_, she thought. Twirling a finger through her short auburn hair, she sighed as the final price came up on the register screen, and she pulled a handful of bills out of her wallet and handed them to the cashier.

Sakura was getting desperate; she had insisted to her father that she could make it on her own, and so she had triumphantly moved into her own apartment and lived by herself in the months following college graduation. But now, she was in danger of falling behind on rent, and her budget for groceries every week was growing tighter and tighter. She had odd jobs here and there and worked part-time as a waitress to pay the bills, but it was simply not enough.

She needed a job, and she needed one _soon_; and at this point, she was almost willing to settle for anything.

* * *

"Tomoyo!" Sakura called, running towards a pale, black-haired, violet-eyed girl standing patiently on the sidewalk behind the diner at which Sakura worked.

"Hi, Sakura. How was work?" Tomoyo smiled kindly at her closest friend, who was busy tugging off her apron and re-tying her ponytail.

"Oh, it was ridiculous," Sakura said, her words slightly muffled as she held her hairtie between her teeth while brushing her hair into a short ponytail with her hands. Grabbing the hairtie with one hand and holding the ponytail with another, Sakura watched in exasperation as the apron she'd been holding in the crook of her arm began to flutter to the ground, which was wet with the rains of the previous day. She smiled gratefully at Tomoyo, who caught the apron just before it touched the ground. "Thanks. Anyway, it was so busy, everyone was running left and right... You know how it goes. Tourists start coming here and families start visiting since it's summertime."

"You must have made a lot of money today, then!"

Sakura sighed. "Nope."

"Why not?" Tomoyo asked, frowning at her friend. She looked exhausted.

Sakura laughed wryly. "I dropped another tray..."

Tomoyo sighed. "Again?"

Sakura nodded. "Yeah. Miki wanted to pay me in full, but she said she didn't know where the money for all the things I've broken would come from if not out of my salary."

"Friendly as she is, she's still your boss, so I guess it's only fair," Tomoyo responded.

Sakura and Tomoyo Daidouji had been friends since before either even knew how to hold a pencil. Having come from the same hometown of Tomoeda, they had attended elementary, middle, and high school together; and although they had attended different universities, both had moved to Tokyo for secondary education. Polar opposites, they were—Sakura was outgoing, clumsy, and talkative, whereas Tomoyo was more reserved, shier and quieter, and definitely the more graceful of the two. But at their roots, both were kind, intelligent, quick to trust, and incredibly insightful when it came to reading others (although not quite so much when it came to themselves), and ultimately, those factors made the bond of their friendship unbreakable, even upon entering separate colleges.

Tomoyo had also recently celebrated her college graduation, completing her major in the field of fashion design with a minor in photography, two areas that essentially defined her character. When the two girls were younger, they had dreamed of growing up and working together—Sakura writing for some posh magazine with Tomoyo's photographs to accompany the words, or Sakura writing articles on Tomoyo's latest designs. As Tomoyo's mother, Sonomi Daidouji—the woman who had pulled strings to get Sakura her botched interview—already had connections with the fashion industry, Tomoyo had her foot in the door and was destined for success. While she still had a long way to go, heads of prominent fashion houses were, as Sonomi had so proudly put it, "keeping a keen eye on her."

As Sakura was like another daughter to Sonomi and Sonomi was very well-off, she had offered countless times to pay for Sakura's rent or aid her in buying groceries, but Sakura had insisted that she work on her own to make the money, wanting to be able to respect herself. Oftentimes—like in the supermarket the other day—Sakura almost regretted her stubborn independence, but usually, she was quite satisfied with herself since she was at least trying to stay true to her word.

"So, any word on job interviews?" Tomoyo asked.

"Nope," Sakura said, sighing as they turned a corner to head to her apartment. "Maybe I should just lower my standards a little. It's not like I've tried every magazine in the city, you know?"

"Right. And it's not like everyone starts from the top! Some of the greatest stars worked their way from the bottom up!" Tomoyo responded enthusiastically, following her friend up the apartment stairs.

"True," Sakura said, turning the key in the lock and letting herself in. She dropped her bag and apron on the loveseat in the living room, plopping down herself on the sofa that sat opposite the loveseat across the coffee table. "I guess I can go job-hunting tomorrow, since I have the afternoon off... I'm so tired, though," she mumbled, letting her head loll onto the back of the sofa.

Tomoyo sat down beside Sakura, her perfect posture providing a stark contrast with her best friend's—Sakura's limbs were everywhere as she lay sprawled out over the sofa, looking rather silly. "Well, actually, I could set you up!"

Sakura grinned. "I really appreciate the thought, Tomoyo, but I thought we were going to work from bottom up here? Besides, remember what happened when your mother got me an interview? I can't afford to bomb another valuable one, they'll send my name out to all the good magazines and blackball me," she said, laughing.

"But this _is_ from bottom up! I promise. Remember how I used to do competitive cheerleading when we were teenagers? My friend from the team, Chiharu Mihara, works for a magazine now! She's sort of seeing the editor-in-chief, so she could totally get you an interview!"

Sakura pursed her lips. "I don't know... I really want to try this on my own..."

"Sakura, you're one of the hardest-working people I know. No one will dispute that. Take some help every once in awhile! Everyone needs it, you know," Tomoyo said, and then she turned on the television and got up from the sofa. "You can sit and rest, since you're so tired from work. I'll go ahead and make dinner."

"Wait, but we were supposed to do it together—"

"Ah! What did I just say about accepting help?" Tomoyo said, her eyes flashing as she smiled. "Just relax. I can cook just fine on my own."

Uneasily, Sakura settled back into the sofa. "Well... All right. But don't hesitate to call me if you need any help."

"Got it. Oh, and think over my offer, will you?"

"Sure."

* * *

Ultimately, Sakura had given in; with every day that she had come home from work, exhausted and covered in a coat of grease from hours at the diner, the more Tomoyo's offer had plagued her. To say Tomoyo had been excited was a bit of an understatement.

"_You'll go to the interview?" _Tomoyo had shrieked over the phone, and Sakura had had to hold her own phone away from her ear briefly.

"Yes, yes, I'll go to the interview," Sakura had said, feeling sillier by the moment. "Yeesh, if you'd told me before how happy it would make you, I'd have taken up your offer on the spot..."

And so Tomoyo had booked the interview and sent some of Sakura's writing samples to the magazine, although she had remained mysteriously quiet on details. The magazine was called _Glimmer_, she'd said, and by the name, Sakura had thought it to be some kind of fashion magazine. But that was the only real detail she'd divulged, and Sakura had been left to her own devices to figure out the rest. She had looked online but gotten few reliable results; most were publications outside of Japan, let alone Tokyo, and the only one whose headquarters was within Tokyo was a gossip magazine—a tabloid. Sakura knew that Tomoyo wouldn't recommend her to a tabloid, not only because that was a little _too _low, but also because Sakura was embarrassingly behind on her pop culture.

So, left clueless, Sakura had merely followed Tomoyo's directions to the building on the day of the interview, hoping for the best.

And now, here she was, sitting in a flimsy-looking waiting room on an uncomfortable metal folding chair, the receptionist clicking away noisily at a keyboard. She'd been tempted to ask the receptionist exactly what the magazine specialized in, but she was worried it'd ruin her chances at making a good impression. Better to feign knowledge, she thought, and just run with whatever came her way. The lobby had held framed photographs of what Sakura figured were celebrities; she wasn't familiar with any of them, but she did recognize faces she'd seen on TV or the covers of magazines in grocery stores every once in awhile. Perhaps the magazine was an entertainment magazine, like _Hito_.

"Sakura Kinomoto, Mr. Yamazaki will see you now," the receptionist said, not looking up from her computer screen.

"Er... Thank you," Sakura said, bowing, and she stepped hesitantly into the editor-in-chief's office...

And had to stop herself from running out.

Sakura felt a peculiar sensation within herself as she took in her first .05-second survey of the office. For the editor-in-chief's office, the room was rather tiny and old-looking, the white walls a little too sterile and the golden-potted plants in the corners looking a little too fake. But what Sakura spent the most time observing were the covers reading _Glimmer_ in big, bold, tacky font, framed and placed all around the room. For on those covers were the most outrageous headlines Sakura had ever seen, accompanied by pictures of people—and once again, Sakura presumed they were celebrities—all looking either shocked or angered or on the verge of tears. The headlines jumped out at her like overzealous hosts, ushering her in but in reality driving her out.

"_GOLD DIGGER OR GIRLFRIEND? THE SHOCKING PAST OF HIROMI MIZUSHINO!"_

"_AYA MATSUURI—BAR CATFIGHT, AGAIN?"_

"_RYOUKU AIKANO LEAVES WIFE AND CHILDREN—'THIS IS THE LAST STRAW,' HE SHOUTS!"_

"_SYAORAN LI, SCANDALOUS AFFAIR WITH CRAZED FAN?"_

Sakura was horrified at how intrusive these headlines seemed. _I am going to kill Tomoyo! _How could she ever work at a place like this? She found herself backing up towards the door she'd entered only seconds ago...

"Sakura Kinomoto?"

Sakura tore her eyes away from the framed magazine covers and looked at the person seated at the desk in the middle of the room, and to her surprise, he looked... friendly. With soft black hair and eyes that seemed to smile whether or not his lips were smiling, the editor-in-chief seemed very young—he hardly looked older than Sakura herself—and very _not _tabloid-editor material.

"Hello," Sakura said, rushing over to shake his hand, not wanting to seem impolite. She was sorely tempted to bolt out of there, but the man seemed too nice. She figured she could just try to let him know the situation, that she'd been set up without a clue as to what _Glimmer_ was, and that it was just not the job for her.

"I'm Takashi Yamazaki," he said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "Welcome to _Glimmer_," he said, the tone of his voice proud.

Sakura had to keep herself from laughing in spite of her horror at the situation at hand. She wondered if he knew that the name of his tabloid made it sound like a tween girls' magazine.

"I've read over your writing samples," the man said, still smiling. "You have excellent writing skills! On par grammatically _and_ attention-grabbing, even if the subject itself might not always be of interest. I was very impressed."

"Oh, thank you," Sakura said, blushing. "Er... Mr. Yamazaki—"

"Oh, you can just call me Yamazaki," he said, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair. "Everyone does."

"Oh—okay," Sakura said, not knowing what to make of this interview. It was hardly like the formal, rigid one she'd gone to—and bombed—before. "Y—Yamazaki, I'm not really sure if this is up my alley—I'm used to doing more formal pieces—"

"Sakura," he said, interrupting her, and the look on his face was suddenly so serious that Sakura was startled into silence. "Can I call you that?"

"Er... Yes."

"Sakura, I'll be honest with you. I'm in desperate need of good writers. _Desperate._ _Glimmer_ is a fledgling magazine, and so we haven't been having the best sales. If we don't raise our numbers by next year, we'll probably go under." He sighed, and Sakura couldn't help but think that he seemed a bit too dramatic. "Look. I'm not a fool; Tomoyo told me you were looking for work at a classier, more respectable publication. But work for me for a year, and you'll actually be surprised at what kind of training you can get for the business, regardless of what sort of journalism career you'd like to pursue. I know it hardly sounds impressive to say you worked for a tabloid, but if you choose to believe me, I do have connections. I think you'll be a good worker. Prove me right through the year, and I can help you."

"Oh," Sakura stammered, blushing again. "I—I'm not embarrassed..."

"Sure you are," Yamazaki said cheerfully, all traces of his seriousness suddenly gone again. "It's okay, really. But I am serious about my offer. What do you say?"

Sakura bit her lip and looked off to the side. Thoughts of all the places that hadn't called her back, all of the nights she'd spent working at the diner, the times she'd literally had to count change to pay for her groceries, came flooding back to her, and she felt her resolve wavering. He'd said he had connections. How reliable was he? He may very well have been bluffing. A year spent working at a tabloid, as he'd said, wouldn't be _that_ impressive, but then again, it wasn't like any other publication was running down her door trying to get her to work for them. "I really don't know..."

"I'm flexible. I'm not a terrible boss. You'll make good friends here. And... don't make me beg. Because I'm not above it!" Yamazaki added jokingly, but Sakura was uncomfortable with how easily she could see him getting on his knees, that goofy look on his face, and rubbing his hands together as he pled for her to work for him.

She pursed her lips and deliberated for a moment, but after a few seconds, she sighed. What was the use in fighting it? If she turned it down, she'd just end up regretting it later when she had to spend another night scrubbing down the grills at the diner. "All right."

"Excellent!" Yamazaki said, grinning. "Welcome to the family."

Sakura laughed nervously, unsure how to respond.

"Oh, sorry if that sounded creepy. We have a pretty small staff here, so it's like we're a family. That's all I meant," he said, sounding half-distracted as he pulled open a drawer in his desk and rummaged around for something.

"Oh," Sakura said. That sounded kind of nice.

"Here you go," Yamazaki said, pulling a manila envelope out from the drawer and placing it on the desk. "If you'll just look over these forms and go ahead and sign them. Just be sure to read everything carefully. And..." He paused and rummaged through another drawer, pulling out a smaller envelope. "Here's a review of what your first assignment will be. Look that over carefully, too. Shall we have you start next Monday?"

"Sure," Sakura said, still a bit uncertain, but even so, she found herself signing the forms.

"Great." Yamazaki enthusiastically looked over Sakura's signatures on the forms, and then he looked up with a sheepish expression on his face. "Er... I would feel bad for dragging you into this without warning you, though."

Sakura looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Most tabloids can buy their photographs off of paparazzi, but we don't really have the funding or the connections for that kind of thing yet—at least, not for consistent sources. For now, we have our own photographers and some of our writers going around and photographing their targets as well, on occasion... I know it sounds like a lot of work, but we pay you for both the photography and the writing."

Sakura was alarmed. "I have to run around and take photographs of celebrities?"

"Only as a bit of a side job," Yamazaki said hastily.

Sakura bit her lip. She didn't know much about this whole process, but... "Won't that be difficult?"

Yamazaki shook his head. "You'd be surprised at how easy it can be."

"And the pay is more than if I were just writing?"

Yamazaki nodded solemnly.

"Well..." Sakura sighed. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. Sure, why not?"

"Great! Here's my card," Yamazaki said as he handed her a business card. "Call me if you have any questions. I'm so glad to have you on board!"

* * *

After exchanging goodbyes, Yamazaki watched as Sakura left his office. He leaned back in his chair and grinned to himself.

So maybe _Glimmer_ wasn't in as much of a crisis as he'd made it sound; maybe he wasn't so short on staff. And getting photographs of celebrities wasn't quite as easy as he'd written it off to be. But she was an _excellent _writer and definitely a hard worker, and he had wanted her on his team badly, so he'd spun a few tales to get her to work there; hell, wasn't that why he was the editor-in-chief of a gossip rag?

Sakura Kinomoto had seemed fairly straight-laced, if not a bit clumsy. She was friendly, hesitant to say anything that she felt would hurt Yamazaki's feelings. It would be interesting, he thought, to observe the effects of this new world she'd just been thrust into on such a personality.

* * *

"Tomoyo, I got the job!" Sakura said into the phone, a skip in her step.

"Of course you did," Tomoyo said happily from the other end of the line. "I knew you'd do it!"

"I can't believe you referred me to a _tabloid_, though!"

"But you've still decided to work there." Tomoyo's voice was smug.

"Oh, whatever."

"Well, did they tell you what kind of work you'd be doing?"

Sakura examined the envelope in her arms as she walked. "He did give me an overview of my first assignment. I haven't looked at it yet."

"Well, let's hear it!"

Sakura opened up the envelope and pulled out a glossy photograph with a note paperclipped to the photo. She read the note aloud. "Tail on regular basis; attend regular locations (see back for list) and develop a schedule, if possible; try to get interviews, answers to 'essential questions' on spot; get pictures. Carry camera, preferably video camera, and tape recorder at all times. Write articles based on information gathered. Mostly, you'll receive topics." She balked. "This sounds a bit creepy..."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds," Tomoyo said reassuringly. "Who are they asking you to tail?"

"I'm not sure. It's a photograph of a guy..."

"What's he look like?"

"Dark brown hair, bright brown eyes, youngish. He's good-looking," Sakura admitted. "Is it bad that I have no idea who this guy is?"

"Any other details? That's pretty generic, but the first name that would pop into my head is Syaoran Li. I can't be sure, though. If so, you're a lucky girl. He's super-popular. And _gorgeous._ He's been embroiled in a bit of a scandal lately, though, which might be why he's even more of a hot topic right now."

Sakura turned the photo over and saw a name printed on the back. "Oh, you're right. That's what it says... 'Syaoran Li.'"

"_Lucky!_" Tomoyo squealed. "Oh, and he's recently single, too! Sakura..." Tomoyo trailed off, and Sakura could practically hear the stars in Tomoyo's eyes.

"Tomoyo, please. He's a _celebrity_, okay? And if he's as big as you're saying he is, it'll probably be difficult to even get a picture of him. Great," she muttered. "I haven't even started yet and they've already given me a hard assignment."

"Don't take it so seriously! Have fun. But hey, Sakura, I've gotta go, I'm meeting Mother for dinner. Call me later, maybe we can meet up!"

"Yeah, that sounds good. Talk to you soon!"

As Sakura hung up the phone, she examined the photograph once more.

_I'm _really _starting from bottom, aren't I?_

* * *

As the last chapter was all about Syaoran, this one is all about Sakura. Although her life may not be quite as exciting as Syaoran's is—hers is a lot more normal—it definitely gets more exciting with this job (which, as Yamazaki explains, is not the typical tabloid job, but a bit of a hybrid of paparazzo and tabloid journalist, for plot purposes). I hope you've enjoyed so far! Chapter three is in the finishing stages and should be up soon. Please leave a review on your way out!

Love,

boreum dal


	3. photographs

**radio star**

iii. photographs

"Just remember, be natural—"

"Right."

"Do that thing where you smolder at the camera, photographers always seem to go a little crazy when you do that."

"Meiling."

"I know it's been awhile since you've done this kind of thing, so it's okay to be nervous. You just need to relax—"

"Meiling, I've got this," Syaoran said, raising his hand to stop her. "It's just a photo shoot. It's not even for the main feature. Small article, remember? Just a few pictures. I've got it."

Meiling wrung her hands. "Oh, hell. You're right. Maybe I'm the one who's nervous."

Syaoran laughed. "I think you are."

A week had passed since Syaoran and Meiling had gone to Hiiragizawa Publcations and set up a string of appointments for interviews with various magazines. Eriol hadn't been in, as he'd been called away at the last minute for an urgent meeting with another client, but all had gone well regardless. Meiling had accurately predicted that most publications would want to know more about what exactly had occurred in the notoriously private star's life to make it fall apart in such spectacular fashion. Now, they were waiting for Syaoran's first photo shoot and interview in a string of many to begin.

"You'd think I could go for a less vanilla magazine, though," Syaoran had griped. Their first shoot was for _Candy_, a teenage girls' magazine, but he'd had nothing smart to say when Meiling had retorted that much of his "accidental demographic"—younger teenage girls who were head over heels for the rock star—followed magazines like _Candy. _That demographic, she'd snapped, regardless of whether or not he wanted them, was vital to keeping his career alive.

The door to Syaoran's dressing room opened, and the coordinator for the shoot poked her head in. "All right, are we ready?"

With a sigh to Meiling and a polite smile to the coordinator, Syaoran stood up and walked out the door.

* * *

"That bastard. I should've known he'd be here," Syaoran said good-naturedly, eyeing the man across the studio with a grin.

A tall man with dark blue hair, a smart pair of circular, silver-framed glasses placed over his eyes—a brighter shade of blue than his hair—and a tailored grey business suit on caught his glance and smiled back, waving and walking up towards him.

"So you can't meet me for an actual scheduled appointment, but you come to watch the shameless exploitation of my face and body for rabid teenage girls?" Syaoran said as Eriol Hiiragizawa reached him, clapping his back.

Eriol chuckled. "Since I had to miss our appointment last week, I figured I could stop by your first photo shoot. When I heard that it was for _Candy_, I knew I couldn't resist. Gotta keep those crazy fans of yours satisfied in hard times like these, right?"

"'Crazy' is right," Syaoran muttered darkly. "I'm dreading it."

"Meiling, always a pleasure," Eriol said, turning to Meiling and giving her a warm hug.

"It's been a while, huh?" Meiling smiled at her longtime friend.

"Yeah, things have been a bit crazy at the company lately. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to support you guys when things started to fall through," Eriol said, exchanging a glance with Syaoran. Good friends though they were, both of them had intensely busy schedules that kept them from seeing each other very frequently.

Syaoran shrugged. "I know how it goes."

"Mr. Li?" An assistant walked up to the trio, her voice quiet. She was young, likely an intern or a newcomer, and she looked nervous to be around such high-profile people.

"Call me Syaoran," he said back, flashing her a grin. He hated for anyone to feel tense around him, not particularly for their sakes, but also because it made him very tense as well. "Are we ready?"

His charm had worked, and the assistant visibly relaxed as she nodded gratefully and led him off.

Eriol shook his head. "He's still got it, huh?"

Meiling laughed. "He never lost it. Now we just need to convince everyone else of that."

* * *

"Okay, now rest your elbows on your knees, relax your hands, and lean forward a bit, but don't forget to keep your abs tight—yes, just like that—fantastic!" the photographer cried, holding his camera up to snap pictures.

_Click click click._

"Now, chin in your hand..."

Syaoran glanced uncomfortably at Meiling and a snickering Eriol, who both stood watching to the side of the photographer, before he recomposed his expression and looked casually back at the camera.

He sat on a black lacquered wooden chair against a plain white background, his shirt on the ground just within range of the camera frame, made to look like he'd carelessly stripped it off and tossed it aside as he'd walked into the shoot. He'd nearly snorted when the coordinator had presented the idea to him, but a warning glance from Meiling had silenced him before any smart remark could come out of his mouth. He knew it came with the job, especially because he had a good physique, but he'd always been wary of shoots like these. They made him feel strangely ill-at-ease. Perhaps his colleagues in the industry enjoyed the idoldom that their talents brought them, but Syaoran was not so keen on the idea of teenage girls tearing out these black-and-white, hypersexualized images of him and putting them up on their walls to kiss before they went to sleep at night. He didn't care enough to disapprove, but he found it bizarre that he was the subject of such admiration.

"He might hate it, but he really is a natural," Meiling observed, watching a computer screen on which the photographs appeared. It had been awhile since she'd observed Syaoran in this setting, and she'd almost forgotten exactly how good he was at this. "The camera loves him."

Eriol nodded, although he was still grinning at Syaoran's obvious discomfort. While some celebrities felt very natural doing these kinds of things, Eriol knew Syaoran felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. It was interesting, how much his friend's personality clashed with his profession. It was feasible to maintain privacy in the limelight, but by no means was it easy, especially given the factors in Syaoran's life—his youth, his appeal, his fanbases, and now, as a result of those factors, the scandal he'd recently weathered.

Having gone to school with Syaoran and consequently having grown up with him, Eriol knew how drastically Syaoran's life had changed when he'd first been thrust into the business. While Syaoran's life had hardly ever been _normal—_he came from a well-to-do family who owned a major business corporation in Hong Kong, and for most of his life, he'd grown up in Japan apart from his family, as his mother had sent him to a prestigious school abroad in Tokyo—he'd still had a semblance of a normal life at one point. He'd been a student like everyone else around him, and although he'd been forced to be independent from an early age because of his living apart from his family, he'd been able to see them much more frequently than he ever could after he became an actor. But he discovered a love for acting early on in school, Eriol remembered, and after his first play, Syaoran's desire to act was insatiable. When an agent came to the school and scouted him, the only thing holding him back was his mother. Yelan was hesitant to let her fourteen-year-old son partake precisely because of the consequences of the spotlight on such a young mind, but ultimately, she witnessed Syaoran's passion for it and allowed him to do it.

At first, Eriol recalled, Syaoran seemed to enjoy it, not because of the red carpet ceremonies or the star-studded events—he had been a child, and he hadn't cared much for those things beyond thinking they were "kind of cool"—but because, as he'd said in an exhilarated voice to Eriol over the phone, he was learning so much about acting every day. And with each successful film, Syaoran grew more and more experienced, but the pressure grew as well. His biggest fear became letting down the audience, as he took his trade very seriously. When _Nightlight_, the musical in which he'd starred, became a huge hit, Syaoran felt the pressure skyrocket along with the fame. He had become Asia's number-one young actor, and somehow, he had also grown more terrified than ever of being a disappointment.

In fact, he'd become so terrified that in the middle of the night a week after _Nightlight_ had premiered, he packed his bags and caught a subway to Eriol's house, showing up on his doorstep and looking miserable and awfully young. At sixteen years old, Syaoran Li, Eriol's best friend, had been living the life of an older man, dressing to the nines for ceremonies and events populated mainly by adults and partaking in activities that also involved mostly adults. He'd also lived with the _pressures_ of a middle-aged man, and it had worn him down. But that night, he just looked young and frightened.

He was still a kid, Eriol remembered thinking. They were the same age—and while Eriol was busily chasing girls and worrying minimally about his grades, Syaoran was worried about losing the respect of a nation with a single misstep. Eriol's parents, like second parents to Syaoran, ushered him in, setting him up for the night in a makeshift bed on the futon in Eriol's room. Syaoran called his mother that night, and Eriol listened outside the door without entirely meaning to—more out of a sense of protection than a sense of curiosity. He would never tell Syaoran, but that was the first and only time Eriol had heard him crying.

The next day, Yelan called everyone involved in Syaoran's career, the potential record company bosses included, and told them all bets were off. It took a few months to legally pull him out of some of the contracts to which he was bound, but after that, Syaoran was free to live his life as a normal person. Wary of the media, Yelan wisely sent him off the continent altogether, putting him in a school in New Zealand and then sending him to college in England, where Eriol joined him as a classmate and a roommate.

But from living with him, Eriol came to believe—and correctly—that Syaoran couldn't resist the pull much longer. He had wanted to live out the rest of his teenage years normally, and since he had gotten to do that, he was eager to go back to doing things he loved. He had always enjoyed guitar and singing, but after the professional training he'd gotten from _Nightlight_, he'd become much more dedicated to the hobby. Eriol witnessed his music develop through his college years, and in his senior year, while Eriol applied to potential jobs and business schools, Syaoran sent out demo tapes.

Syaoran was blessed with a very high return rate—almost every company he'd sent a demo tape to asked him to come in for an interview or a meeting or a further audition. After several meetings, Syaoran signed with an independent record company, thinking it the best choice based on his past experiences with fame and pressure. They both graduated college, and then Syaoran jumped into the industry once more, headfirst, but this time calling his own shots. He'd accepted that he'd have to partake in things he liked a bit less—exploitative photo shoots, for one—but he was also ecstatic at the idea of sharing his music with the world. Syaoran hit the road for his first tour as Eriol began his first year of his internship under his father's company.

They kept in touch as they had in the old days, Syaoran documenting the same fears of pressure but with a much more mature handle on the matter, Eriol griping about business issues within the publication company as he moved up the ranks. They had a good laugh when Eriol had wound up in charge of Syaoran's first cover story as a musician. And now, even as a storm had blown through Syaoran's life once more, Eriol stood and watched as Syaoran—with the help of his impeccable PR team, Meiling especially—simply picked up the pieces and decided to start over. His friend had grown.

As calm and cool as Syaoran looked as he watched the camera, though, Eriol couldn't quite erase the look of discomfort on Syaoran's face moments prior from his mind. He was definitely a natural, but would he ever really be at home in the industry that made his life so crazy?

* * *

"Excellent work today, Syaoran," the coordinator said as Syaoran walked out of his dressing room.

"Thank you," Syaoran said politely, slinging his bag over his shoulder and bowing before he walked out of the studio. To say he'd felt out of his element during that photo shoot was an understatement, but he was relieved all the same that he had done a satisfactory job.

Meiling and Eriol stood in the parking lot, chatting amiably as they waited for Syaoran.

"There's our model," Eriol said teasingly, turning to Syaoran.

"Shut up," Syaoran muttered. "I haven't done one of those in a long time. I forgot how awkward they were."

"I think the shots will turn out great, though. Eriol and I were watching some of the raw pictures on the computer as they appeared and they already looked so good!" Meiling said, and she gave Syaoran a playful shove. "You're really a lot better than you think you are."

Syaoran shrugged. "For the fans, I guess."

Meiling laughed. "For the fans, indeed." She turned to Eriol. "So, you're going now?"

"Yeah, I'm already pretty certain I'll be running a little late for this meeting," Eriol said, glancing distractedly at his watch. "But I'm definitely unopposed to clearing some of my schedule later on this week to meet and catch up," he said to Syaoran.

"Sounds good. Just let me know."

With that, they parted ways, Eriol leaving in his own car and Meiling and Syaoran stepping into a black car that had been waiting for them.

Meiling went through her calendar on her phone, cross-checking various schedules, and turned to go over the rest of their week's agenda with Syaoran. She quickly chose to remain silent, though, when she saw his face.

He was watching the world pass by outside the window of the car, his eyes focused on the passersby on the street and his mouth set into a thoughtful frown. He didn't look troubled or disquieted, but simply tired, blinking slowly every few seconds as though he were resisting the urge to keep his eyes closed and fall asleep. His face, usually so angular and well-defined, seemed softer for some reason. He looked like a child.

Meiling pursed her lips as she felt a surge of protectiveness rush over her. Syaoran had been like a brother to her all her life. He hardly ever spoke about it, but she knew that while his outward appearance seemed fine now that he was living correctly again, his mind must have seemed like a constant battlefield.

Syaoran suddenly turned to her, sensing her eyes on him, and he raised his eyebrows. "Everything okay? You look strange."

Meiling shook her head. "Everything's great." She paused. "Look, I know we said we were going to head to the studio tonight for some late-night recording, but how about we just order dinner and rent a movie? I've been dying for a night off."

Syaoran frowned. Meiling was a notorious workaholic. "You? You want a night off? Are you sick?"

Meiling laughed. "Don't be silly. But handling all of this has worn me out a bit, you know."

"Fair enough," he replied, shrugging. "Your place or mine?"

* * *

Sakura left Royal Roast Café with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. She sighed as she trudged to the park nearby. She'd contributed much more yen to the café than she could afford to since she'd started this job, but what could she do? She would have felt rude just sitting in there without having bought anything. Reaching a bench in the park, she sat down and rested her chin in her hand, leaning her elbow on her knee and trying not to look too sulky.

_I'm becoming a regular there just by stalking this guy,_ she thought to herself. It had been two weeks and she had had yet to see him; this was her fourth outing trying to hunt him down for a measly picture. She enjoyed working in the offices, as everyone was surprisingly friendly (although unsurprisingly addicted to gossiping). She was getting by working on small pieces here and there, but she knew she was not fulfilling the job she'd been assigned—to find and write about Syaoran Li—and she felt like she wasn't truly earning her pay. As a result, she'd taken time out of her own schedule, even when she was off work, to venture out and see if she could spot him and snap a few pictures with the camera that the office had provided her.

The profile on him that she'd received had said that the Royal Roast Café and the park next to it were his haunts, places where he'd gone regularly to write music and think. He had been photographed leaving the café several times before. But maybe he had stopped going to these places because it was obvious that he needed to _think_, Sakura figured, and how could he think if there were fifty photographers standing outside, each waiting to take a prized snapshot of him?

Sakura felt bad for him. He had such little privacy, and she couldn't imagine that anyone in his right mind would enjoy that kind of invasion in his personal life. She had read up on him in the days leading up to her job, and each detail she'd discovered about his life, she'd taken with a grain of salt. Who knew what kinds of lies the media made up about him? It seemed that they struggled to get any information about him outside of his official interviews, so it would only make sense that they'd make things up to sell a story. He was wealthier and more popular than Sakura could fathom, but she felt that he must have led a hard life regardless.

Sighing, she held out the picture she'd received when she'd first agreed to sign on to the _Glimmer_ team. Yamazaki had been gracious and patient about her inability to actually find this Syaoran Li and get pictures of him, saying every beginner took a little while, but Sakura felt like an utter failure. Really, how hard was it to find one person if he frequented these spots so often? There weren't even that many people at the park today to sift through! Sakura examined the picture more closely, and she committed herself to memorizing the details of his face so she could better recognize him in real life. Unruly brown hair, a bit of a darker shade than the average brown; brighter, deeper brown eyes; strong bone structure, which gave him an air of confidence; but the look in his eyes was kind, so he didn't look too severe. He was certainly attractive enough, but Sakura wondered if he was a nice person.

She lowered the picture, and she nearly jumped when she saw the subject of the picture—the real Syaoran Li—sitting casually on a bench across from her, just a few meters away. Or... Well, she thought, it _seemed_ like him. She blinked, then looked at the picture, then back at him. He was wearing a baseball cap and thick, black-framed glasses, so she couldn't be sure. But there was no mistaking that gorgeous bone structure. Right? Perhaps it was just a really good-looking doppelganger, Sakura thought suddenly. Tokyo was a big city! God knew how many people who were out there who happened to look like Syaoran Li. Sakura bit her lip, trying to find an indicator that it was him. There weren't any other photographers around him, but perhaps they didn't recognize him, either.

Sakura's camera felt heavy around her neck, and she sighed. There really was only one way to find out.

Standing up and walking over to him, Sakura felt her palms sweating. Not that she cared that she was possibly approaching a celebrity, but she had no idea how to do this without looking like an idiot. Possible-Syaoran did not notice her approaching, as he sat with his head leaning back over the edge of the bench. He certainly looked forlorn enough to be Syaoran Li, considering the current state of his life, Sakura thought.

"Um... Excuse me?" she said, her voice hesitant.

No response.

She tilted her head to the side. She felt awful for bothering him, but she needed to earn her pay, she told herself. "Excuse me, sir?" she said a little more loudly.

Possible-Syaoran's head snapped up, and he glanced at her with a miffed look. Sakura noticed his eyes pause at her camera on his once-over of her. He looked wary. Perhaps it was him.

"I, uh..." _What do I say? What if I'm wrong? _Sakura sighed._ Better safe than sorry. _"Are you... By any chance, are you Syaoran Li?"

* * *

Syaoran looked at the girl before him with a mixture of exasperation, surprise, and amusement. She was clearly a paparazzo—but she had to be new to the job. Was he Syaoran Li? He hadn't heard those words in that order since his college days. She'd essentially offered him an out to being photographed. He'd have to leave the park, but at least he could escape being a paparazzi target for a day, thanks to the newcomer.

Resisting the urge to laugh, he cleared his throat and spoke with a slightly deeper voice. "No, no I'm not. But I do get that a lot."

Expecting her to give up and leave, Syaoran coughed in surprise when the girl sat down beside him, took his hand, and shook it vigorously up and down.

"My name is Sakura Kinomoto." She bowed her head slightly. "I'm so sorry to bother you—it looked like you were deep in thought—but I've been working for two weeks and my job is to get photographs of Syaoran Li, and I've had no luck at all. You really do look enough like him—" and at this point, the girl—Sakura, as she'd introduced herself—took a photograph that Syaoran recognized as one of his headshots out of her pocket and held it up beside his face— "so could you please, please just pose for a couple of pictures and act like you're him for a second? I really, really need to keep my job. My rent is coming up, and—"

Without meaning to, Syaoran chuckled, cutting her off. He scooted back a little when he saw her glaring at him for the interruption.

"You're _really_ new to the industry, aren't you?" he said, taking off his baseball cap and running a hand through his hair.

Sakura gasped, all anger seemingly forgotten. "You even have his _hair_! This is perfect!"

"You also seem to have the attention span and the common sense of a five-year-old. How are you a paparazzo?" Syaoran asked, amusement continuing to tint his voice.

Sakura frowned. "What do you mean? You said you weren't Syaoran Li, but you definitely look enough like him. Look, I just really need some photos, I swear I won't even get your name. I can just make up the article, since Yamazaki seems to encourage far-fetchedness, anyway," she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to the man beside her. She looked back up at him. "Please? What have you got to lose?"

Syaoran sighed as the girl continued to babble on in her efforts to persuade him. She seemed harmless enough. Maybe he could just do her a favor and—_Wait a second, what the hell are you thinking? Weren't you supposed to have gotten up and left two minutes ago?_ Syaoran felt his resolve waver, though, as he glanced at the girl. She needed to keep her job, she'd said. He had never known what that had felt like. And, she was definitely much nicer—if not a bit dumber, he thought—than the average paparazzo. _You're an idiot,_ he chided himself, before he held out his hand and spoke.

"Syaoran Li, at your service."

Sakura grinned and clapped her hands. "Perfect! Thank you so much. Now, if you'll just take off your glasses, no one will even be able to tell the difference—"

Syaoran's eyes widened a little as he watched her reach over to him and carefully take off the fake glasses. He felt an odd sensation run through him, but his exasperation at her dimness took over before he could fully register what exactly that sensation was. "Look, Sakura—you said your name was Sakura, right?—I mean it. Syaoran Li, at your service... Literally."

Sakura frowned for a moment, and then she gasped in realization. "You're really—you're really him?"

Syaoran chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, really—hey, ow!" He stopped laughing as he felt a sharp sting on his arm from where she'd just slapped him. "What the hell was that for?" he said, rubbing his arm.

"You lied to me! I asked you nicely if you were him, and you told me no. And you've been thinking I'm stupid this entire time!" Sakura said, her voice defensive.

"Look, lady, I don't know enough about you to care about whether you're stupid or not. And this is one of those situations where honesty isn't necessarily the best policy, wouldn't you say? Could you blame me for lying?" he grumbled.

At that, Sakura seemed to draw back. "I'm sorry," she said, pursing her lips. "I know it's a hassle—I really—if it makes you feel any better, I really hate this job. I don't believe in it, but... But I really needed the money!"

Syaoran waved it off. "Yeah, yeah, you and every other stinking paparazzo in this city. It's whatever, just take the pictures."

Sakura looked up at him, still feeling guilty. "Are you sure?"

Syaoran snorted. "Yes, I'm sure. Take this opportunity before I change my mind. I've never done this kind of thing before."

Sakura smiled. "Thank you!"

For the next few minutes, Syaoran worked in a different kind of photo shoot under the direction of this strange new paparazzo, acting unassuming so that Sakura could feign candids. At the end of the photo shoot, they snuck in a fun picture where he pretended to glower at the camera, looking like he'd finally caught on that he was being photographed. Syaoran laughed when she showed him the last one on the screen of the camera.

"All right, well, if that's satisfactory, I'm out of here before anyone else catches me," Syaoran said, pulling on his baseball cap and placing the glasses back on his face.

"Thank you, really, for helping me. You're a lifesaver," Sakura said, the gratitude in her voice sincere. He _had_ to be a nice guy, she decided. What kind of celebrity, especially one whose life had just been ruined by the paparazzi in recent months, willingly did this kind of thing?

"Don't sweat it. Just don't make it a regular thing, for the love of God." Syaoran held up a hand to wave goodbye. "See you around, Sakura."

Sakura waved back, sitting on the bench and watching him walk off. She replayed the entire scene in her head, reminiscing in the nice memory, until she gasped and smacked a hand to her forehead.

_I can't believe I slapped Syaoran Li on the arm!_

* * *

That's the end of chapter three! I hope it satisfied. Although it's an AU story, I'm trying very hard to keep the characters close to their canon selves. Sometimes, though, it's difficult for me to characterize them in canon because the story places them in some bizarre situations. Let me know if I stray too far off base! Hopefully, though, I'm doing a decent job of it. Anyway, you've seen a bit of Syaoran's past—from Eriol's point of view, anyway—and how he got to be where he was. If you re-read the introductory bio article about him from the first chapter as well, it gives you a pretty solid idea of his character and his background. Later, we'll learn more about Sakura, who of course has a much more normal backstory. Also, Sakura and Syaoran have met for the first time now, hmm. In the next chapter, Sakura finds out some interesting opinions about Syaoran from inside the journalism world, and the two meet for a second time. It's in the works, so it should be up soon! Thanks for reading, and please leave a review! ^^

Love,

boreum dal


	4. momentum

**radio star**

iv. momentum

"_YOU MET SYAORAN LI?_"

Several heads turned towards the source of the voice.

"Tomoyo, please," Sakura said, grinning nervously. _For a quieter girl_, she thought, _Tomoyo can get awfully overenthusiastic about some things..._ "I know it's exciting, but we're in a public place—"

"Sorry, sorry! But that's just... _incredible_!" Tomoyo squealed, brightly ignoring those around them who continued to stare.

The two were catching up over lunch, both having been too busy with their work recently to meet up. Proud of her first paycheck—which, as Yamazaki had promised, had been much more than Sakura had been expecting, due to the great snapshots she'd gotten of Syaoran Li—Sakura had offered to treat her best friend, leading to a discussion of how she'd met the star and consequently gotten said paycheck.

Sakura shoveled food into her mouth, her grumbling stomach thanking her profusely, as Tomoyo fired questions at her, clearly too interested in the topic to even touch her food.

"So, what was he like?"

"He was nice. Are you going to eat or not? Because I'm starving, and if you don't want your food, I'll gladly take it. Although, I think you're skinny enough, Tomoyo, so you really shouldn't skip your meals—"

"Sakura," Tomoyo said exasperatedly, spooning some of her own food onto Sakura's plate. "You met the country's biggest star. I'm going to need a bit more of a description than that."

Sakura took a sip of her drink and swallowed, rolling her eyes. "It wasn't _that_ big of a deal..." But her grin betrayed her. "Okay, it was pretty neat."

Tomoyo smiled. "Go on."

Sakura explained the meeting, and she appreciated how good of a listener Tomoyo was. It was already an exciting story, but Tomoyo laughed, gasped, and raised her eyebrows in all the right places, making Sakura feel like something special truly _had_ happened, even if she had just been doing her job.

"I can't believe you didn't know who he was! I bet he was offended."

"Well, he was wearing those glasses!" Sakura protested. "And he was not offended! Otherwise he wouldn't have let me take pictures of him."

"Sakura, a word of advice: glasses are probably the flimsiest of all the celebrity disguises you'll come across in your career."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"But I can't believe he let you take pictures! And he remembered your name! Oh, my God, that's so romantic," Tomoyo said, gazing out towards some indeterminate space, lost in her own world. "You two would be _so_ pretty together..."

Sakura glanced up from her food and looked at Tomoyo with one eyebrow raised. "Let's be reasonable. I looked like a tourist going to Disney World with that camera around my neck. And I'm sure Syaoran Li, Asia's biggest celebrity, won't even remember my face."

* * *

_Green eyes._

Syaoran frowned as he scratched out another line of lyrics in his notebook. He shook his head and began to rewrite the line, trying to match the words better to the melody in his head. It was awfully difficult, though, when his present thoughts had nothing to do with the words he was attempting to write down.

_Not the average green. Darker, but vibrant, still. Lit up. What color would that be?_

He drummed his fingers against his desk, telling himself to focus.

_You called Mizuki's eyes jade eyes._

He sighed in frustration, tearing the page out altogether and crumpling it in a ball before tossing it in the waste bin under his desk. He leaned back in his chair, closing his own eyes. It was hopeless.

_But that girl's eyes were different. They weren't quite jade... What color?_

It had been a week since he'd had that odd run-in with the paparazzo. He initially hadn't thought much of it, other than that it was one of his funnier experiences with the media, but in one of those stray, unbound thoughts that drifted around in his head as he'd been falling asleep that night, it had occurred to him that the girl's eyes had been remarkably similar to Mizuki's. His own eyes had flown open immediately, and he had tossed and turned in bed for hours, trying to shut the thought out of his mind, until he'd finally fallen asleep. Since then, the thought had plagued him for whatever reason, popping up at the most inconvenient times in the forefront of his train of thought. And oddly, he was fixated—obsessed, really—on identifying her particular eye color.

It frustrated him that they were so similar to Mizuki's and yet something set them apart to make them distinctly different, to the point where he couldn't call them jade, the way he used to describe Mizuki's eyes. It would have been easier, he felt, if they were just the same. He found himself struggling to remember her name, which only frustrated him further.

Just why did it mean so much to him, anyway, that her eyes were like Mizuki's? Was he really that heartbroken? Syaoran wanted to laugh at himself. He had not heard from Mizuki in the two months since she'd ended things with him; she was obviously off living her life. Perhaps she was unaffected by it all. He, on the other hand, was obsessing over the eyes of a random paparazzo because they reminded him of his ex-girlfriend's. He felt truly pathetic.

He'd have to forget about it. It would become easier with time, he knew. So the girl had green eyes. Plenty of people in the world had green eyes, he reasoned. Besides, what was the likelihood that he'd ever even speak to that paparazzo again?

* * *

"So, since word's gotten out that Syaoran Li is on the promotional circuit again, he's been more of a hot topic than ever. You're going to have a hell of a time chasing him down nowadays."

"Wasn't last time enough?" Sakura groaned, leaning back in her office chair. "Chiharu, it's so much effort trying to follow him around. Not to mention, I'm losing all my dignity here."

She had walked into the office that morning and sat cheerfully at her cubicle, expecting a good few weeks of peace and little to no celebrity-chasing since her last set of photos had been so successful, but her friend and co-worker Chiharu Mihara had put a hole through those ideas as soon as she opened her mouth to say hello. Sakura was expected, she said, to follow Syaoran Li to the recording studio later today, but she'd probably have to fight for a good picture against the crowd of paparazzi bound to be there.

Chiharu laughed Sakura's naiveté. "Sakura, he's one of the biggest stars on the continent. If we want credibility, we need pictures of him."

Sakura snorted at "credibility," but Chiharu merely ignored her.

"And, with the great pictures you got of him last time," Chiharu continued, "Takashi probably thinks you're the best candidate for the job, even above our other photographers. Consider it an honor!"

Sakura sighed. "I don't know... It'll be difficult to get them the way I did last time," she said, which wasn't a lie.

Chiharu shrugged, turning her head to focus on her computer as she began to clack away at her keyboard. "You don't get pictures like that without some kind of skill. Or a connection, but obviously that's not the case here."

Sakura laughed nervously. She'd decided it was best to keep her lips sealed about how exactly she had gotten those pictures in the first place.

"You know," Chiharu said, apparently not noticing, "Before you started working here, Takashi used to send me to the press conferences and events involving Syaoran Li. They've said some interesting things about him—juicy stuff that we're just not supposed to write about."

"'They'?"

"The journalists, I mean. They come from all kinds of publications. Some work the entertainment beat for their news station, and others work for entertainment magazines like _Hito_."

"What could they have to say about him that you haven't heard? We work for the gossip industry," Sakura said, displeased with the bad taste the last sentence left in her mouth. It was more an admittance than anything else.

"Well," Chiharu said, chewing her pen and looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember. "They've said that he's awfully different after the scandal with that fan."

"I'd imagine so," Sakura replied with a frown. "I feel like something that traumatizing could change a person's life."

"No, no, not like that. It's just that they think Mizuki Akizawa had made him more personable to the media, and once he lost that, he kind of lost some of his luster. Like, it's easier to see how closed-off he can be, which isn't the greatest quality when you're one of the country's biggest stars, you know? He comes off kind of...into himself, I guess, because he won't talk to much of the media."

Sakura frowned. He had certainly seemed like a nice person when she'd met him, but then again, it had been a mere few minutes. Still, the thought of him being an unpleasant character bothered her—disappointed her, almost.

"Don't get me wrong," Chiharu said quickly, "they all think he's a nice guy. There's not necessarily anything wrong with him, and he's never been publicly rude. He's just not, you know, every reporter's best friend, which is frustrating when everyone wants to know so much about him. They say it could be the downfall to his comeback and his career. And I've heard reports that he's unbearably grumpy now that he doesn't have a girlfriend, which doesn't help," she giggled.

Sakura smiled and returned to her computer screen, but her brow was still furrowed. She felt more reassured about his character now, but she balked at the idea of having to brave the end of a relationship in such an intense spotlight. She had hardly been able to handle her own breakup last year, and she didn't have to talk about it with thousands of reporters wanting to know her story. She couldn't imagine the difficulty.

Sakura's cell phone went off loudly then, blaring in her pocket. One look at the screen told her it was Yamazaki, and she knew what to expect before she even opened the phone.

"Hello?" she sighed.

"Sakura, I've just gotten word that Syaoran Li is headed to the recording studio."

Sakura pursed her lips and glanced at Chiharu. _It's not like I _have _to try to get pictures like that again. They'll understand how difficult it is with all of those other paparazzi around._

"Sakura?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'm on it!"

* * *

_This is _insane, Sakura thought to herself, struggling through masses of people and trying not to get bumped around too much. Just how important was it to get a picture of Syaoran Li entering his recording studio, anyway? Wasn't that going to be a daily affair for a while? Would it produce this kind of frenzy every day?

Sakura groaned at the thought of having to come back to this on a daily basis. She was so clearly not cut out for this job, but how could she leave it when the pay was so good? She sighed. _Right_. Squaring her shoulders, she took the camera off from around her neck just in time to see a black car roll up several yards away.

Immediately, the crowd of paparazzi went wild, and the chaos was a direct assault to almost all of her senses: while she was being pushed and thrown around in every direction by the people around her, the flashes going off nearly blinded her and the voices calling out Syaoran's name and asking him questions created a jumbled roar in her ears.

Trying to get a hold of herself, she stood up on her tiptoes to get a glimpse, holding her camera high above her head and clicking blindly. She saw him for a split second—Syaoran Li, hair mussed in every direction, face expressionless and eyes shielded by designer sunglasses. He was followed by an entourage of several people, and security guards were pushing back some of the paparazzi in the front of the crowd.

All this madness for a single person who, quite rightfully, Sakura thought, wouldn't give the photographers the time of day—it was unfathomable. She forgot to get more shots of him as she watched the group of people retreat into the recording studio, lost in thought.

_What is it like to be so adored that it steals any semblance of sanity from your life?_

* * *

"So, what do we do now?" Sakura asked timidly to a paparazzo standing beside her.

It had been about five minutes since Syaoran had disappeared into the building; Sakura had expected everyone to leave, but they had lingered behind, standing around and chatting idly, their cameras still out.

"He's bound to come out sometime," the paparazzo said gruffly, and he turned away.

Sakura sighed. Not only was this job invasive, but her colleagues also weren't the kindest. She nearly laughed to herself at how naïve that observation sounded, even to herself.

Everyone's head suddenly turned as the doors to the recording studio opened, and Syaoran Li appeared once more, his head bowed down and hair covering his eyes as several assistants ushered him quickly towards the car. The frenzy began again as the paparazzi attempted to get pictures, to reach him, struggling against security and asking him why he was leaving so soon.

Sakura was jostled among the crowd more than ever as the paparazzi shouted and scrambled to figure out where he was going and chase after him, and just as she managed to adjust her camera securely around her neck, another photographer in the crowd accidentally thrust the camera upward into her face in his hurry to leave. She felt her nose explode with pain, and she would have fallen backwards were she not cushioned by the people around her. Instead, she found herself being moved among the crowd, and struggling to regain her balance while clutching her nose, she managed to stagger her way to the outer edges and try to regain some composure. To her horror, blood was dripping everywhere, and it seemed that no one in the crowd was paying attention enough to realize she needed help.

Would it be too dramatic, she wondered wryly as she helplessly watched the paparazzi disperse to speed off after Syaoran, to leave a few drips of blood on her letter of resignation?

* * *

Syaoran glanced out the window of the upper level of the recording studio to see if the paparazzi had followed the decoy that his team had sent out, sighing in relief when he saw that they were in the process of stampeding towards the designated location. Now he would be able to record in peace for a while, and with luck, he'd also be able to leave in peace. Looking directly back below the window for a moment, however, he spotted one paparazzo who hadn't left yet. She was leaning forward on her knees, fumbling with her camera.

Wondering with suspicion what she was doing, he looked more carefully, and he widened his eyes in alarm when he saw that blood was dripping all over the sidewalk below her. She was bleeding! How had that happened?

_She probably got her camera shoved in her face trying to take a picture of me,_ he thought, and suddenly feeling a rush of bitterness, and he began to close the curtain. However, upon one more glance, he saw that it seemed like no one was around to help her; everyone had run off after the decoy.

He clenched his jaw. To go out and bring her in would ruin the efforts that he and his team had gone through to get the paparazzi away from him, and it would blow his cover—she would likely end up telling other members of the press that he'd used a decoy in the first place, and the ruse would never work again. It was incredibly unwise to make any move to help her.

But as he watched her looking around and clutching her nose—which, judging by the blood running through her fingers, still seemed to be bleeding quite profusely—and he felt a wave of pity for her.

"Fuck," he groaned in frustration, and he ran out of the room and down the stairs.

Upon reaching the back door, he made his way out of the alleyway and towards the sidewalk carefully, making sure that no one else was around before he went out to help her. However, when he reached out and touched her arm, she let out a shriek, and he jumped back.

"Look, lady, I'm just trying to help you out here—" Syaoran stopped as she turned around and he finally caught a good glimpse of the paparazzo's face—or, rather, the top half of her face, as the lower half was covered by her hands to stop the blood flow.

It was her.

_Emerald eyes,_ he thought dazedly in his shock._ They're emerald. _

Those very eyes widened at the sight of him, and she began to back away.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back before she fell into the street. "Look, I just saw you from upstairs. It looked like you needed some help. You're bleeding everywhere."

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she glanced at him and then to the right, where the rest of the paparazzi had run, and he immediately knew that she was accusing him of using a decoy.

He shrugged. "When you guys are chasing me down like that, do you honestly expect me to put up with it all the time? What can I do? Now, do you want my help or not?"

The girl seemed reluctant, much to Syaoran's surprise, as he figured a paparazzo would jump at this chance, but she let him pull her back into the building and up the stairs.

* * *

Sakura tried blindly to keep the blood from spilling over onto the floor of the building as Syaoran dragged her in and up a stairwell. It was absolutely everywhere—she was stupidly surprised that so much could come out of just a nose—and she mentally groaned to herself as she realized that her shirt was probably ruined beyond repair. She was trying very hard not to vomit; she had no real fear of blood, but in excess, it made her nauseous, even to the point where she forgot about the original pain of her nose.

Suddenly, the stairs ended and she stumbled into a sunlit office. Syaoran guided her over to a sofa and sat her down. She turned her face upward to look at him bewilderedly.

"Here, keep your head tilted forward," he said, and with surprisingly gentle fingers, he touched the base of her neck to get her to do so. "You're going to have to squeeze that middle part of your nose"—Syaoran pointed to the area on his own nose—"for a little while."

He steered her over to a sofa and sat her down, examining her carefully for a moment or two, seemingly assessing the damage. Sakura felt like a circus freak, but she knew he was only trying to help. She occupied herself with squeezing her nose and trying not to get blood on the sofa.

"Stay like that for a moment, would you?" he said, and he disappeared from Sakura's vision.

Now that she was finally sitting down, the thoughts in her head began to settle a bit more, and she wondered where she was. She didn't risk looking around for fear that more blood would come out, so she closed her eyes and leaned her back against the sofa. Did celebrities use decoys often, she wondered? She figured it wasn't a regular occurrence, or the crowd of paparazzi would have figured it out by now.

_Yamazaki never told me that this was such a dangerous job, _she thought, and although it sounded silly enough in her head, it really _was_ dangerous. She'd never even been punched in the face before, let alone smacked in the nose with a five-pound camera.

Sakura felt someone sit down beside her on the sofa and opened her eyes, nearly jumping back when she saw Syaoran's amber ones staring into her own with what looked like concern.

"Are you okay?" he said, his mouth set in a frown. "Christ, you've lost a lot of blood."

He set a basin in her lap and reached up to pry her hands away from her face, but she resisted, shaking her head to indicate that more blood would come out.

"Hey, look, I can't help you if you're going to mask your entire face with your hands. Sitting there covering your face will take a lot longer than letting me help you, and you're just going to bleed all over my floor at this rate. I can't have that."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him, but she slowly lowered her hands. She suddenly felt very conscious of the way her face probably looked—the entire bottom half of her face must have been stained red.

Syaoran, however, seemed to take no notice as he took a wet cloth and began to wipe the blood away. She watched him curiously, wondering what had prompted him to do this. He must have seen her from a window, she deduced, but why would he risk getting caught by the rest of the paparazzi to help her—especially when she was one herself?

It occurred to her only then how good an opportunity this was. But watching him, she knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to take any pictures or even ask him any questions; how rude it would be, she thought, when he'd rushed out to help her.

He touched her very gingerly, and Sakura felt minimal pain as he began to clean up the area around her nose. He didn't seem nearly as bad as the journalists Chiharu told her about had said; perhaps they were just bitter because they were so unsuccessful in getting interviews with their number-one target very often, Sakura thought.

_Maybe he really is just a nice guy who wants some privacy. I would want that, if I had to live his life._

Just then, Syaoran's eyes met hers, and Sakura inexplicably found her cheeks growing warm. Syaoran averted his eyes quickly as well.

"Don't forget to keep your head tilted forward," he murmured.

Sakura bowed her head forward, and Syaoran cleaned up the last of the blood.

Reaching down, he reached into what sounded like a bucket of ice and, a moment later, placed a pack of ice over the bridge of her nose. He grabbed one of her hands, and Sakura raised her eyebrows in surprise, but he simply placed that hand on the ice pack and stood up.

"That should do it," he said, nodding. "Hold onto that for about five minutes. It should keep down the swelling and quell the blood a little. Can you talk now?"

Sakura cleared her throat. "Yes. Thank you," she said, and she glanced up at him through her eyelashes to try to convey that she meant it.

"It's nothing," Syaoran responded, and he sat down on the sofa across the coffee table from her, studying her. She couldn't see him, as her head was still (somewhat comically, he thought) tilted forward, her eyes downcast.

So far, she had made no move to reach for the camera dangling around her neck, much to his relief. He didn't want to let his guard down, though; perhaps her injury was distracting her, but sooner or later, she'd want a picture of him.

Based on his first encounter with her, he had no idea what to make of her; she definitely didn't _seem_ like the other paparazzi who followed him around. They were all of a certain breed, it seemed—every one of them were aggressive, persistent, sometimes annoyingly so and sometimes dangerously so. Some of them were also incredibly vicious in their methods. This girl seemed to be none of those things. Perhaps it was the doe eyes, he thought, but she looked absolutely harmless. Plus, she was tiny—and young. She looked to be around his age. What was she doing playing paparazzo, anyway? Most of them were in their thirties and forties, usually bigger and stronger men who could put on a good chase and often ram their competitors out of the way.

"I guess it'd be rude not to introduce myself," he said suddenly, although he felt awkward introducing himself again, especially to a paparazzo. "I'm Syaoran Li. I'd shake your hand, if you had any free ones."

Sakura laughed, but stopped quickly when it seemed to add pressure to her throbbing nose. "I remember. I'm Sakura Kinomoto, in case _you _don't remember, though. I'm sure you don't. I'd shake your hand as well—and I'd look at you, if I could."

_Sakura Kinomoto. _He hadn't remembered, but now he knew that it would be as easy to forget her name as it would be her eyes.

"So, Sakura," Syaoran said, grabbing his bottled water from the table and taking a swig, "mind telling me how that happened?"

"I don't really know," she responded nasally, and she glanced up at him again before readjusting the ice pack. "I think when the rest of the paparazzi were rushing off to follow your...your stunt double, or whatever he was, my camera got smashed into my face. I guess someone must have elbowed it upward or something."

Syaoran winced. "Ouch. Sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

Sakura shook her head. "I don't think so... Did it look broken to you?"

"It's a little swollen right now. After it settles, you should check and see if your nose is crooked. Or if you're bleeding after a few more minutes, a hospital visit might be ideal."

Sakura sighed. "Great."

Syaoran eyed her, pursing his lips. He didn't _want_ to feel bad for her—if she was indeed a paparazzo, he'd vowed to try not to have anything to do with her kind long ago. "Well, it kind of serves you right," he muttered. "If that's what you call a job, you shouldn't expect life to be easy or painless."

Sakura felt her defenses rise up. It wasn't like she _wanted_ this job! Still, she conceded in her mind, she was the one who had taken it. No one had forced her. That said, she wasn't going to just let some guy make presumptuous statements about her, celebrity or not. "You can't make those kinds of judgments when you don't even know me, don't you think?"

"Sure, I know you," Syaoran scoffed. "What's there to really know about you? You're all the same. You have a camera around your neck, and I'm willing to bet anything you have a tape recorder in your pocket. You may very well have hit'record' right when we set foot into this room—or even right when I grabbed you on the street."

Sakura felt her stomach forming into knots. He was right about the tape recorder being in her pocket, but she'd made a conscious decision not to pull anything like that on him from the moment she'd realized she had that kind of opportunity—how _dare_ he?

His voice grew colder, and Sakura found herself shocked and confused at the sudden change in his mood.

"You're willing to do anything for money, even if it means ruining people's lives. You've got no shame, and I wouldn't be surprised if you actually took a little pleasure in stalking people the way you do—"

"Stop," Sakura said, but her voice was too soft. He continued.

"And you know what the greatest thing about your _job_ is? Nobody is ever going to take you seriously after this, except more people of your kind. How impressive is it that you follow people around like a lost puppy all day, snapping photographs of them and making hell for them with your godforsaken questions? On what resumé would that look impressive?"

Sakura's eyes widened. How he had known to bring up such a thing, she had no idea; but he'd certainly hit her weak spot.

Syaoran sneered. "I hate people like you," he said, and the venom in his voice surprised Sakura. "You guys are pathetic, really, a complete mockery of journalists—of human beings, even—"

"Stop it!" Sakura shouted, and she winced as the shout increased the pressure on her the ice pack down, she stood up."What right do you have to talk about me like that? You think you know _everything_, don't you? You know, I thought you were a nice guy. I thought the journalists I've heard about were wrong about you—"

"Journalists?" Syaoran laughed mirthlessly. "A little delusional there, are we? Did you get brain damage when you got hit in the nose, too?"

"_Journalists,_" Sakura spat, feeling more anger than she could fathom. "Not paparazzi. Journalists who kiss your ass in their articles, but when they put the pen down or shut their laptops, you know what they say? They say that you're self-centered, anti-social, and egotistical, and that if you're going to be anywhere near the level of success you had before, you'd better get your act together."

Syaoran stared at her in shock, suddenly out of things to say, and Sakura registered that she'd hit a sore subject. She'd exaggerated Chiharu's words a bit, but she felt far too angry to care. She grabbed her camera and the tape recorder from her pocket and flung them at the sofa, causing Syaoran to jump back a little.

"And what the hell do you know about me? Sure, I might have a camera and a tape recorder, but I want you to know that I would _never_ take advantage of someone who had stuck out his neck to help me, because contrary to your belief, I'm a good person!" she shouted. "Who the hell do you think you are, assuming like that? Seems like you don't know me very well after all, do you?"

She was breathing hard now, and as her shoulders heaved up and down with her breaths, she vaguely realized that there was a thin stream of blood coming out of her nose. Sighing, she wiped at it with her wrist, glaring at Syaoran all the while.

Syaoran swallowed, not knowing what to say. He hadn't expected her to lash out like that, but he also hadn't realized how carried away he'd been getting with his words. He looked at the tape recorder, which wasn't even on; and it was true that she had not taken a single picture since she'd set foot in the room. He couldn't believe he felt guilty, but...well, he did.

And now, she was bleeding again, and he knew that wasn't a good sign.

"Hey," he said, standing up and walking over towards her.

"Stay the hell away from me," she said, backing up.

Syaoran put his hands up, trying to show that he was done. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean what I said. It's just—my life has been ruined countless times by the media, so I'm a little sensitive about it. But it's clear that you're not going to disrespect my privacy, and I thank you for that. Now," he said, tentatively taking another step towards her, "please let me get you to the hospital. It's been twenty minutes at the very least since you got hit, and you're still bleeding. That's not good."

Sakura's glare softened into a frown, and she sniffled, realizing that she really _was_ still bleeding—after she'd wiped it away the first time, the stream had reappeared, still thin but quite steady. Had it been that long since she'd been hit? Her nose suddenly hurt very much.

"Ow," she whimpered.

In spite of himself, Syaoran let out a chuckle. "Yeah."

Sakura glared at him again. "Are you _laughing _at me now?"

Syaoran quickly recomposed his expression. "No! No, not at all."

Sakura let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, I appreciate the help and all, but I can just catch a bus to the hospital—"

"Not only would that take too long, but you look like you just came back from the dead with all that blood on your shirt. I'd advise you to come with me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Sakura glanced down at her bloodstained white button-down and moaned. She glanced back at him, and she clenched her fist at his "I-told-you-so" expression. "Fine," she grumbled, and she grabbed her camera and tape recorder off the sofa. "Let's go."

"I'll help you down the stairs."

"No, I don't need your help, thank you," Sakura said, snatching her hand away as he tried to take it.

Syaoran shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Sakura followed him out of the room and into the stairwell, her thumb and forefinger still pinching the bridge of her nose and her feet clanking on the metal staircase. This was so ridiculous, she thought. How did she manage to land herself in a situation like this? It would certainly be a story to tell Tomoyo whenever she got out of it—

"Whoa!" she yelped, her voice echoing in the stairwell as she slipped backward down a stair, and she winced as she fell, expecting a burst of pain as she readied herself for the _crack_ of her head colliding with metal—but instead, she landed into softness as a pair of arms shot out to support her. She opened her eyes, only to find that Syaoran's were watching her with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

"Careful," he murmured, and Sakura could feel his breath on her face, he was so close.

Standing her back up, he continued on. Sakura watched after him a moment, wondering what had just passed between them, but she shook her head and brushed it off as mere imagination.

Wandering to the back of the building, Syaoran dug out his keys and pressed a button, causing one of the few cars in the parking lot to _beep_ open.

Sakura followed him out to the sleek black Audi, and she frowned. "Is this your car? You didn't drive here, I thought..."

Syaoran shrugged, opening her door for her before going back around the car to get into his own seat. "The decoy took my ride. This is a spare car. I drove it here a few days ago and left it when I rode back with my agent."

Sakura's eyes went wide as she registered that this was his _spare._ She could hardly imagine being able to afford even just one car like this in a lifetime.

As she buckled herself in and Syaoran started the engine, she looked out the window to avoid making eye contact with him. It was strange, but she didn't feel like she was in the presence of a celebrity at all, minus the extravagant car.

_Oh, yeah. This is definitely going to be a story for Tomoyo. _

* * *

And so begins the love-hate relationship, haha. More interaction between these two in the next chapter, and perhaps even the beginning of a real friendship between them. And we learn more about Sakura's background, as promised! I really hope you guys liked it. I appreciate any feedback, so please review, review, review!

Love,

boreum dal


	5. gratitude

**radio star**

v. gratitude

Sakura wiped in vain at her nose for what had to be the tenth time before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose again. _Really, though, who knew a nose could bleed so much?_

She looked over at Syaoran, whose eyes were focused on the road, one hand lazily hanging out of his open window and the other on the wheel. They had not spoken a word since they had gotten into the car; Sakura felt supremely uncomfortable.

She cleared her throat, unable to take the strange silence anymore. "Um. Thank you for taking me to the hospital."

"Yeah, no problem."

Sakura drummed her free hand against her lap. "So... How far exactly are we from it?"

Syaoran glanced over at her for a moment, took in her form, and smirked. She made a ridiculous sight—blood all over a once-immaculate white business shirt; large, obstructive camera hanging around her neck; a look of annoyance, bewilderment, and slight anxiety on her face. "A little antsy, are we?"

Sakura exhaled sharply at the smart remark and went back to staring out of her own window. She was just trying to be friendly. _Asshole._

Syaoran had to stop himself from laughing out loud. "We're about five minutes away, don't worry."

Sakura heard the amusement in his voice, and unable to turn back to face him for the sake of her pride, opted instead to text her boss that she wouldn't be returning to the office anytime soon.

* * *

"I feel so baaaad," Yamazaki wailed. "I'm the one who sent her out there! All by herself, defenseless and alone! _And now she has a broken nose!_"

Chiharu sat opposite him across his desk, watching him with irritated eyes. "You're so stupid sometimes, Takashi. What did she say to you again?"

Yamazaki wordlessly handed over his cell phone, and Chiharu read the text from Sakura displayed on the screen.

"_Got into a bit of an accident at the studio, too many people. I might have a broken nose, maybe? Going to the hospital to check it out. Don't worry!_" An amusingly varied array of happy emoticons—no doubt intended to comfort—followed the words.

"Well, thank God, it sounds like she's not too concerned, and she says she _might_ have a broken nose, not that she does for sure," Chiharu sighed, placing the phone back on Yamazaki's desk. "It's probably nothing big. But you," she said sternly to her boyfriend, pointing a finger at his chest, "you have got to be a little more careful with your demands! You should have known the number of people who would be there! What were you thinking? I mean, I told the girl she was good, but you don't send someone out there like that by herself! Have you seen her? She is _tiny_! She probably got run over by a mob of gossip-hungry photographers!" Chiharu raised a hand, feeling that now might be one of those times she could afford to smack some sense into him.

Yamazaki put his arms over his head and flinched, but he nodded. "I know, I know. I'll be more careful from now on."

Chiharu sighed, lowering her hand. "Good. You should offer to pay her hospital bill."

"Yeah..." Yamazaki frowned. "I really hope she's okay. She seems like the type who'd lie about her well-being so others wouldn't worry."

Chiharu walked around the desk and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll text her to see how she's doing and let you know. I'm sure she'll be fine. I have to finish my piece by three, so I'm gonna get back to work. See you on my next break," she said, walking over to the door. She gave him a smile before she left the room.

Her boyfriend was one of the kindest people she knew, but Chiharu secretly wondered to herself sometimes how someone so airheaded could successfully run an entire publication.

* * *

"Two hours?" Sakura's eyes bulged at the wait time the receptionist had just given her.

"It's just an estimation, miss, so it could be shorter, but I'm sorry. Afternoons are awfully busy, and unless it's a dire emergency, there's quite a bit of a wait on days like these," the receptionist said, gesturing to the large number of people sitting around in the emergency room lobby.

"I understand, but..." she glanced around, looking over at Syaoran, who had surreptitiously placed a pair of brown-lensed glasses and a baseball hat over his head before heading into the emergency room and choosing a seat in front of the television. No one had seemed to notice him yet, but Sakura was beginning to understand the magnitude of his celebrity, especially after a day like today. Someone was bound to recognize him soon.

"It's all right," Sakura said, turning back to the receptionist and smiling politely. "I'll just leave. This injury isn't really a big deal, and it wasn't even my idea to come to the hospital, anyway—"

"Miss," the receptionist said, her voice slightly alarmed. "I highly recommend that you stay for treatment, regardless of how long it takes!"

Sakura frowned. "I mean, it's just a bloody nose..."

The receptionist eyed Sakura's bloodstained shirt. "How long have you been bleeding?"

"I guess it's been about an hour now," Sakura said, sniffling a little. But there wasn't even that much blood anymore, she thought.

The receptionist shook her head. "Miss, I can't command you to, but I think it's in your best interest to get treatment."

Sakura bit her lip. She really didn't have time to stick around for two hours. What was the worst that could happen if she left? _Well, your nose could get permanently disfigured_, she thought to herself out of nowhere, and with that, she sighed in resignation. "Right. Could I see those forms, please?"

After filling out the hospital forms and receiving a cold pack, a box of tissues, and a stern warning from the receptionist to stay sitting up while she waited to be called, Sakura trudged over and sat down dejectedly beside Syaoran. "The wait time is pretty long," she muttered to him, "so you can go if you would like. I can take a bus home or call my friend Tomoyo to pick me up, because she'll probably be out of work by the time I'm done here. I'm sure your schedule is busy."

"How long?"

"About two hours."

Syaoran glanced over at her for a moment, his lips pursed in thought, before finally shrugging. "I'll stay."

Sakura looked at Syaoran in surprise. "You don't have things to do?"

"I do, but how shitty of me would it be if I just let you stay here by yourself? Besides, we've already wasted an hour of the time I would have spent recording, and now I'm just not in the mood anymore. If I'm doing a good deed, my agent will probably let it slide."

Sakura balked at his careless attitude, but she couldn't complain. It would have been lonely, she thought, to wait at the hospital by herself. "Well... Okay. Thank you."

Syaoran nodded.

They waited for about an hour, both of them watching the television idly. Or, rather, _Syaoran_ watched the television, while Sakura pretended to watch and then looked over every so often at Syaoran, thinking over and over how bizarre her life had become in the last few days. She was in a hospital, waiting to get treated for a bloody nose, sitting beside Japan's most famous celebrity as if it were nothing. He had wiped the blood off of her face not too long ago. She wanted to laugh hysterically at the idea of it.

"So, this little injury of yours," Syaoran said suddenly, bringing her out of her thoughts, "it happened because you're a paparazzo, right?"

"Isn't that a little obvious?"

"Well, I'm just trying to gather my thoughts here. I guess the real question is, why the hell _are_ you a paparazzo? You're really not fit for it, you know." There was no hostility in Syaoran's voice as he said this, but it still made Sakura uncomfortable.

Regardless, she felt compelled to answer. "I mean, this wasn't the path I intended to wander down..."

Syaoran laughed. "Isn't that a little dramatic? You're a paparazzo, not a prostitute."

"Don't be so vulgar," Sakura retorted, but a blush spread over her cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry," Syaoran said with a chuckle. "Continue."

"Anyway," she went on, "I didn't want this job. I worked really hard in college to become a good journalist, and I graduated with high marks and everything! After graduation, I decided to take a couple of years off to build a good résumé for graduate school, but I had a hard time finding a job that could boost my credentials and pay enough for me to sustain myself. I didn't have a lot of connections, so getting a job with an esteemed magazine wasn't easy. I had an interview at one point with a very good publication, but I choked during the interview and didn't make it through. And I couldn't just wait around for a job to fall into my lap, either, so then, I was working for awhile as a waitress—"

"Why didn't you just ask your parents for help? With the money, I mean," Syaoran interrupted, frowning.

Sakura smiled a little at the concern on his face. In his own way, it seemed he was very naïve. "My father has enough burdens without having to worry about my rent and my expenses. I wanted to be independent."

Syaoran grunted in response. That was somewhat admirable, he thought in surprise.

"In any case, my best friend was concerned about me, I guess, because I was really struggling, and she sort of tricked me into going into this interview with _Glimmer_—that's the place where I work—because she made it sound like it was a real magazine, not a tabloid."

"Wait, wait—she told you this was a publication called _'_Glimmer,' and you thought it was going to be a hard-hitting magazine?" Syaoran snorted.

"I mean, I didn't expect it to be anything great," Sakura said defensively, "but I wasn't familiar with celebrity gossip in any aspect until a few weeks ago, so give me a break, okay? I didn't even know who you were till I was assigned to get pictures of you."

Syaoran's eyebrows rose, and his jaw dropped a little. "You hadn't heard of me...at all?" he said, his voice a little weak.

Sakura shook her head. "I mean, I'm sure I'd seen your face around on billboards and ads and such before, but I just never took notice of that kind of stuff."

Syaoran seemed to deflate a little in his chair.

"Are you all right?" Sakura asked. He looked a little funny all of a sudden.

Syaoran nodded, unwilling to admit that his ego had been wounded quite a bit. He had never once met someone who hadn't heard of him before. That was definitely a first. "Go on with the story. Sorry I keep interrupting."

Sakura stared at him some more, perplexed at his odd behavior, but she shrugged and continued after a moment. "Anyway, I went in for the interview and I tried to decline when I realized it was a celebrity gossip rag, but my boss is the nicest guy, and he practically begged me to stay on for just a year. He said he had connections—I know it sounds a little dubious," Sakura said at Syaoran's responsive snort, "but whether or not it's true, the pay is a lot better and I really do need to start work with some kind of publication," Sakura finished with a tired sigh, staring idly out at the space before her. "Even if it's a tabloid."

Syaoran watched her intently, trying to process the sudden turnover in his opinions on this strange girl. He still didn't necessarily agree with her decision to work for a gossip magazine, but he understood her motives much better now. And her strength of character was more prominent to him than it had been before. He never thought he'd see the day when a paparazzo had been humanized to him, but could he even really look at her as a paparazzo? Now, she just seemed like an odd stranger with a sad story who just happened to want his picture.

Impulsively, he reached out and ruffled her hair. She snapped out of her daze and looked over at him, a surprised look crossing her face. He held her gaze for a moment, unsure of what was going through his mind at that moment...

_Quit it. She's a paparazzo. There's not a lot more to know. _

And with that, Syaoran quickly uttered the first sarcastic comment he could think of. "And all of this ultimately led you to a severely injured nose, huh? You're a smart one, you are."

"Has anyone told you that those glasses went out of style about a decade ago? For a celebrity, you sure are lame," Sakura shot back, sticking her tongue out at him.

He opened his mouth to respond when the receptionist called Sakura's name, indicating that it was her turn to see the doctor. They both stood up, wandering down the lobby and through the open doors.

Figuring the doctor wouldn't notice—or perhaps, even if he did notice, he wouldn't care—that a celebrity was in his presence, Syaoran took off the glasses and shoved them in his pocket.

_Well, maybe there's a bit more to know than I'd like to admit._

* * *

Sakura trailed behind Syaoran towards the exit of the hospital, shuffling her feet.

Syaoran paused and glanced behind him, causing Sakura to bump into his back with a muffled _oof_. "You're gonna fall over if you don't walk right, and then we'll have to go and see a doctor again."

"Sorry, I'm just so groggy," Sakura said, stifling a yawn.

Several hours had passed during Sakura's time in the emergency room, where it had been determined that the cut in her nose was so deep that it required cauterization and, consequently, the administration of general anesthesia. Although she was a bit more alert than when she'd first been roused, her mind was still bleary with fatigue, and it was all she could do not to lie down on the ground and pass out.

"We were in there for an awfully long time..." Sakura murmured, looking at the setting sun for a moment before getting in Syaoran's car. "Thank you for staying with me."

"It's nothing. Glad your nose is going to be okay," he said, tapping his own.

As the engine roared to life and they began to pull out of the parking lot, Sakura gave her address to Syaoran and then leaned her head back against the headrest and tried desperately to keep her eyes open. How embarrassing would it be if she fell asleep in Syaoran Li's car? She'd already humiliated herself enough in front of him today. She was tempted to try to start a conversation with him to keep herself awake, but in her clouded state of mind, it was difficult to think of anything to say.

"Do you think you'll get in trouble for missing work?" Syaoran said then, looking over at her momentarily.

Sakura tried to swallow her surprise; she'd never have expected Syaoran, who was, in fact, somewhat self-absorbed, to possess enough consideration to ask such a question. "No, I texted my boss earlier to say that I'd probably be in the hospital most of the afternoon. He's really nice, so he understood."

"Well, that's good." He paused before speaking again. "Er... So, before we left, I asked the receptionist to mail me your hospital bill. I'll pay for it."

Sakura's eyes widened as she looked over at Syaoran. "What? Why? It'll be so expensive!"

Syaoran merely raised an eyebrow at that, and Sakura blushed as she suddenly remembered that she was talking to a celebrity who easily made much more money than she could ever dream of.

"Cost isn't really an issue to me," Syaoran said. He hesitated before speaking again. "But I've never had someone's injury on my hands before. I want to pay so you won't sue me."

Sakura balked at that. _The nerve of this guy!_ "Hey, I am _not_ that kind of person—"

"Calm down, your blood pressure's going to rise and then you're just going to bleed all over my car again," Syaoran said exasperatedly. "Anyway, I figure you're not that kind of person, but I don't really know you, and I hope you'll understand that the business has taught me not to trust your kind. It's hardly an offer you can turn down, and you know it."

Sakura glared at him, feeling spite at his matter-of-factness, but he was right. She was in no position to turn down such a generous offer, regardless of how offensive the motivation behind it was. "Fine. Thank you... But you were never responsible in the first place, you know."

He shrugged. "You got injured while trying to do your job, which involves me." He looked over at her for a moment. "And I still think you could be doing better things with your life while you're trying to get your dream job, but you didn't necessarily ask for it. I can't really hold something like that against you."

Sakura felt her glare soften. She wasn't so sure what to make of this man, but in spite some of his harsher words, he'd done her many favors today, and he hadn't had to. "Thanks," she said again, her voice quiet. "I owe you."

"No problem."

* * *

"Is this the right place?" Syaoran asked as he pulled into the dimly lit parking lot of a meager-looking apartment complex.

When he got no response, he looked over at the passenger seat, where Sakura had fallen fast asleep, her head lolling to the side. He pursed his lips, wondering what to do; he hated to try and wake her, as she'd seemed groggy to the point of exhaustion, but the only other option would be to carry her up to her apartment, which... _Well, that's way beyond my personal boundaries._

"Hey," he said, nudging at her shoulder with one finger, "we're here."

Still no response.

Sighing, he leaned and pushed her with his whole hand, shaking her shoulder. "Sakura."

She stirred, opening her eyes slowly and glancing around. "Oh, we're home."

Syaoran found a smile tugging at his lips at her chemically-induced cluelessness. "Yeah. Before you go, give me your number so I can text you mine."

Too exhausted to fully express her surprise, Sakura merely stared at him, curiosity written all over her face.

"So I can make sure you're all right," Syaoran clarified. "I want you to call me tomorrow and let me know how you are."

Sakura smiled at him. "That's awfully kind of you."

Syaoran didn't know what to say to that. "Well... Yeah. It's the least I can do," he muttered as he watched Sakura dial her number into his phone.

"Thanks for the ride. And for everything else. I'll see you around," Sakura said sleepily, handing him back his phone.

"Will you?" Syaoran said, raising a brow. He wasn't certain they ever would.

"Maybe never at this capacity again. But I need pictures of you to put food on the table, remember?" Sakura cracked a half-smile, and she waved goodbye before shutting the door.

Syaoran watched as she walked up to her apartment and let herself in, and he sat in his car for a few moments more. Images of her eyes swam in his mind again. He'd had to try all day not to stare at them and think about their uncanny resemblance to Mizuki's.

Sighing, he shifted gears and drove off towards his own apartment, swallowing the strange, uncomfortable feeling forming inside of him.

* * *

_Bizarre, bizarre, bizarre._

Sakura's thoughts swam as she trudged her way through her apartment, flinging her belongings on the ground and changing into a large pajama shirt. Patting her dog Kero hello as he followed behind her, she collapsed into her bed, eyes closing as she began to drift off almost immediately. All of her hazy thoughts revolved around how positively strange this whole day had been.

Almost as if on cue, Sakura heard her phone notify her that she'd received a text message. Opening the phone, she felt a jolt of excitement that roused her awake for a brief moment. A text from an unknown number read:

"_It's Syaoran. Glad you got in okay. Call me tomorrow, let me know you're well."_

Groaning, Sakura closed her phone and let sleep overtake her. All of this, she decided in the back of her mind, would feel like a dream tomorrow.

* * *

_Stunning blue eyes stared into hers as she wondered incoherently to herself what was going to come next. She'd been waiting so long for this moment that it was difficult to realize that it was finally happening._

"_I love you," she managed to say. "Still."_

_The eyes softened. "I love you, too," he said back. He held her a little closer to him._

_She was afraid to kiss him, not wanting to cross the line. That part of their relationship was over, wasn't it?_

_He didn't seem to think so. With excruciatingly slow movements, he leaned in toward her as he pulled her closer, and his lips met hers. She felt an explosion inside of her chest. This was it, she thought as his lips moved from her own to her neck. This was what she had been waiting for. What else could it be? _

_Her breathing shallow, she pulled away. "I can't—I can't."_

_He smiled. "Okay."_

_She leaned her head against his chest, and she felt tears forming in her eyes. "You know what I want... So now, the ball's in your court." _

_Gathering her courage, she forced herself to look into his eyes again, terrified of what he'd say._

_The arms that were supporting her disappeared, she felt herself falling backwards into space, and just like that, he was gone._

Sakura awoke and looked around her, disoriented for a moment before realizing she'd been dreaming. Sitting up, she drew in a shaky breath and held a hand to her eyes, biting her lip as she felt hot tears roll down her face. It had been so long since she'd had a dream like this... Why now?

* * *

That's it for now! Not to worry, though—the next chapter should be up soon, because I have so much more to write. So, Syaoran and Sakura have established a basis for getting to know each other better now. I wanted to include more about Sakura's history here as I'd promised, but it was too much to put in this chapter, I think. The end dream, though, should clue you in a little bit—that definitely has to do a lot with her past! Next chapter, we'll see them forming a tentative friendship, more about Sakura's background, and perhaps the arrival of someone new—I'm not quite sure yet. Anyway, I hope this chapter was satisfying! Thank you for reading, see you soon! Please leave a review!

Love,

boreum dal


	6. welcome distraction

**radio star**

vi. welcome distraction

"Sakura! Oh, thank God you're all right," Chiharu sighed, hugging her colleague as she came to sit at her desk. "I could _kill_ Takashi! Did it hurt a lot?"

"It's fine, it was just a nosebleed that got out of control," Sakura laughed.

Chiharu pursed her lips. "Still, if you had to go to the hospital for it... How'd you get there, anyway?"

"Huh? Oh, I—I took the bus," Sakura mumbled before hurriedly switching on her computer and looking through papers that had been placed on her desk.

"Gosh. Did a lot of people stare?"

"Uh... Yeah, a little bit." Sakura laughed lightly, trying to look focused on her work.

Chiharu sighed. "Well, I'm sorry again that you had to go through that. I told Takashi he needs to pay for your hospital bills since it's his fault, so forward the bill to the office whenever it comes in your mail, would you?"

"Oh, okay then," Sakura said absentmindedly, actually reading through the papers now, trying to decide what assignment she should tackle first.

After a few moments' silence, she realized her folly as she remembered that Syaoran Li had already requested the hospital to send the bill directly to him.

"Oh, wait, wait, Chiharu, that's totally unnecessary," Sakura said hurriedly. "I've got the bill covered!"

Chiharu shook her head. "Nonsense! It was Takashi's poor judgment that got you out there and run over in the first place, so he should pay your bill! I insist."

"No, _really,_" Sakura said, her tone almost aggressive, "it's fine. I, uh... I already made arrangements to pay it."

Chiharu raised an eyebrow at her friend's unnecessary distress. "Are you sure? It's the least he could do. It would make him feel better about the whole thing."

Sakura waved her hand dismissively. "We can think of some other way for him to make it up to me if he feels that bad about it, but really, he doesn't need to pay my bill! It's okay. I promise."

"Well, all right. I'll let him know when he gets back in to his office." Chiharu laughed. "You sure are a strange one, Sakura."

Sakura let out a strangled noise that sounded something like a laugh and buried her head in her papers, wiping sweat off of her brow. _You have no idea._

* * *

"Stop, this isn't working! What are you, a zombie? I want to hear more emotion in that voice of yours!"

Syaoran lowered his headphones from his ears and glared through the window at Matsura, his record label CEO, who had decided to sit in and watch Syaoran as he went through his recording session for the day.

"My workdays only last this long when you decide to watch," Syaoran grumbled.

"Don't you smartmouth me," Matsura shot back, unaffected by Syaoran's words. "You record your best songs when I'm around and you know it."

Syaoran rolled his eyes, but he knew that the man had a point. Matsura was a perfectionist, even more so than Syaoran. Because of that perfectionism and his keen ear for what created good music, most of Syaoran's best-selling singles had been recorded with Matsura present.

The others working in the studio smirked at each other knowingly upon hearing the bickering between the singer and his boss. Within the team of people who had worked with Syaoran for long enough a time, it was a well-known fact that Matsura looked after Syaoran like a son, as Syaoran had lost his own father at a very early age. Still, their relationship was almost more brotherly than paternal—they often comically argued like children, with Syaoran mouthing off at Matsura's many empty threats. This probably also came about in part because Matsura was not actually that much older than Syaoran; at the age of thirty-five, he was only twelve years Syaoran's senior. Still, most would have balked at such a relationship between a younger person and his superior—it went against all standards of traditional hierarchy and respect—but it was understood that Matsura cared deeply about Syaoran, and Syaoran in turn respected Matsura to the highest degree. As a result, neither saw anything wrong with what Matsura referred to as "good-natured ribbing" between the two, and that was that.

Matsura crossed his arms, the black spiky hair atop his head making him appear somewhat sharklike. He watched Syaoran through sharp rectangular glasses that gave him a sense of sternness, but his voice was less gruff as he spoke once more. "Try to get it in one go this time, would you? You do well enough on the chorus, but these verses need work. They're meaningful words, so sing them like you actually mean them."

"Right," Syaoran said, nodding and putting his headphones back on his head as the music started.

Distractedly, he caught sight of his phone, sitting in a table outside the booth, and for a fraction of a second, he remembered that he'd given that paparazzo his number. For some reason, he was peeved that she hadn't called him yet. Who did she think she was, anyway? But his cue to sing came up, and with no more time to think idle thoughts, he closed his eyes and began to sing.

"_Just wait a little longer  
I'm coming home.  
The way you sigh as you speak,  
it's something I need to hear—_"

"Cut," Matsura called. "Syaoran, what are you _doing_? This should not be that hard!"

Syaoran clenched a fist and narrowed his eyes as he envisioned pulling off his headphones and chucking them at Matsura's head through the window. "I'm _sorry_, maybe it's just not my day."

"Yeah, well, maybe you missed your day when you decided to skip out on work for three whole days!" Matsura growled, more serious now.

Syaoran stared incredulously. "Are you still hung up on that? Matsura, that was weeks ago, I apologized—"

"And yet I'm _still_ doing damage control, you ungrateful bastard!"

Syaoran felt the sting of truth in his boss's words. He always tried to remember to be humble, as his mother had raised him that way, but she had always pointed out that he lacked consideration at times.

Syaoran sighed, running a hand through his own hair. "Okay. Right. I'm sorry. I'm trying."

He looked through the window at Matsura. "Look, I don't mean to sound like a baby, but I wrote these songs when I _did_ mean them. I don't know if you've heard the news or anything, but I'm not really madly in love with the sighs of anyone's voice at the moment." He smiled wryly.

Matsura sighed as well, sitting down in his chair and clasping his fingers together in thought. "I get it. But weren't you an actor once? And a pretty good one, at that? You can't conjure up some of those emotions? You know what it's like to feel like you're falling in love. Isn't that enough?"

Syaoran shrugged. "I normally could, but I guess I've been distracted..." He laughed suddenly, scratching his head. "We really have to finish this particular track today, huh? No room for anything melancholy? I'd be pretty good at that."

Matsura smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I told the promoters weeks ago that we'd decided on this one as the next single. Life has piss-poor timing, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, you're telling me," Syaoran muttered. "Well, do you think you could give me a moment?"

Matsura nodded. "Sure thing."

Syaoran wracked his brain, but all he could see were images of Mizuki in his head, and with those images, all he could feel was the tightness in his chest that hadn't quite left him yet. This particular song was a song he had written a few days after they had made up from a big fight.

It was hard to recall what they had fought about, but it had been huge, with Mizuki leaving his apartment in tears and the two of them refusing to speak for two days. She had come back in the late evening of the third day, her wavy ash-blonde hair set aglow in the moonlight, murmuring apologies as she stared off to the side, tears rolling down her face. Syaoran had missed her so much that he pulled her in immediately, shut the door, and kissed her against the wall for what felt like hours. He remembered staring up at her and thinking how beautiful she was, how lucky _he_ was, as she lay on top of him afterward, resting her chin on his chest, the both of them splayed out on his moonlit living room floor.

It had been one of his nicest memories, and now all it was serving to do was set his mind and his heart aflame with regret. He suddenly missed her very much.

But he could remember the happiness he had felt within the moment, what had driven him to write that song in the first place.

_Come on. You're an actor at heart. You can make yourself feel anything._ And just like he had managed to do all those years ago, back when he was in a different part of the entertainment industry, Syaoran squared his shoulders, swallowed his feelings, and dug out the memories that would serve as his shield.

"Okay. I think I've got it," Syaoran said, nodding.

"All right, then, one more time. From the top. Let's make it the last one, you hear?" Matsura said, starting the music once more.

Syaoran closed his eyes and began to sing once more.

"_Just wait a little longer  
I'm coming home.  
The way you sigh as you speak,  
it's something I long to hear.  
Why we're here only now,  
why you've only just turned around,  
I won't even ask—  
just take this hand.  
Go on, smile—just like that,  
And let's get out of here."_

The music swelled, and Syaoran charged into the chorus without a second thought, lost now in the music.

"_I'll look after you.  
You're home in my arms.  
I'll be right here,  
so stay close by.  
And when your breaths catch short,  
come close, I'll wait—  
I'll be right here._"

"Perfect!" Matsura called, cutting off the music and holding a thumbs up, his face stretched in a grin. "You nailed it."

Syaoran let out an exhale. "Thanks. Can I go to lunch now?"

"Sure thing." Matsura looked at the sheet of lyrics for the song as Syaoran came out of the booth. "So, you're calling this song 'Stay'? You know, this song is a little different from your usual fare."

"Yeah... Well, it was a different time," Syaoran said, and he left it at that. "Be back in an hour."

Matsura nodded, figuring he shouldn't pry. He knew Mizuki was a sore subject.

Syaoran grabbed his phone on his way out of the studio, and again felt that odd irritation at seeing that the paparazzo—Sakura, he remembered—had not called him. On the one hand, he felt crazy for wanting a paparazzo to call him. But on the other hand, she'd proven to be oddly _normal_ and noninvasive for someone of her profession, and perhaps that was what had driven him to give her his number in the first place. Or, he thought quickly to himself, he probably had just wanted to make sure she was all right.

He shrugged to himself as he walked to his car. Why should he care, he thought, if she ended up not calling? That was her decision, and it didn't affect him either way. In fact, if she didn't call, it'd be for the best, because what a PR nightmare it would be if she did end up taking advantage of his kindness after all.

_Right._

But hours later, as Syaoran was leaving the studio for the day, he glanced at his phone again for the umpteenth time, and with surprising aggravation, saw that he had no missed calls.

He nearly laughed at the irony as he drove himself home: he owed this Sakura girl, for he thought he'd spend the day feeling morose over his memory of Mizuki, but his aggravation at not being called had somehow grown to outweigh those feelings in the course of the day.

* * *

"Tomoyo, don't you ever get the sense that we're a little too old for sleepovers?" Sakura asked half-jokingly, reaching over to bowl of popcorn on the coffee table with her eyes glued to the TV screen.

"Us? _Never_," Tomoyo responded, and a grin formed on her lips. "Oh, look, his first scene is coming up!"

Tomoyo had invited Sakura over for the evening to watch a few movies and play catch-up with each other. With most of her work done for the week, Sakura had gladly obliged. When Tomoyo had suggested they watch some of Syaoran Li's old movies from before his disappearance from the film industry, Sakura had laughed exasperatedly—she'd had quite enough of Syaoran Li lately—but her curiosity didn't allow her to say no. They'd popped in the musical that had shot him to stardom at age sixteen, _Nightlight_, and Sakura was intrigued at the idea of seeing him through a television screen, acting the part of a character since she had only encountered him so far in person. She thought wryly about how completely backwards that was from most normal people.

The camera panned to a young Syaoran Li, oozing charisma and charm as he met the heroine's first stolen glance at him. Sakura was entranced as she watched—even at such a young age, he was positively captivating. She saw traces of the man he had become, but so thoroughly engaged in his character was he that, as she watched his monologue evolve into a song, she found herself already very involved in his character's story. And she was equally as enamored with his voice—it was smooth and rich, though obviously not as deep as it was now. Even so, there was a rough texture to it that didn't take away from, but rather added something special to the overall effect of it. It was comforting; Sakura felt herself being enveloped in it, and the sweet words of his song sounded even more meaningful in his voice:

"_You color this black-and-white world  
with your beautiful light."_

As the movie progressed, Tomoyo glanced over at her friend, smiling at how invested Sakura seemed in the film. "I remember _my_ first time watching Syaoran Li on film," she said, giggling.

Snapped out of her trance, Sakura blushed. "It's not just that. I mean—he is a very good actor and singer, but..."

Tomoyo lifted an eyebrow. "But?"

"Well, I sort of ran into him again yesterday," Sakura mumbled, staring at the screen. She'd been holding off on telling Tomoyo because—

"You _what_? _Sakura, you ran into Syaoran Li? AGAIN_?" Tomoyo shouted, grabbing the remote and pausing the movie. In her excitement, she nearly knocked over the bowl of popcorn.

Precisely because of that kind of reaction.

"I mean, it is a bizarre story, but I can't tell you if you're going to shout at me," Sakura giggled.

Tomoyo crossed her arms, her face composed into a glare. "You should have told me as soon as you walked in my door!"

"I was just waiting for the right time—it's a long story—"

"Oh my _God_, you have a _long story_ about Syaoran Li!" Tomoyo squealed, the glare gone.

Sakura laughed. "I'll never understand how someone usually so composed loses her mind over celebrity gossip." She leaned back against the sofa, launching into it and explaining the story in full.

Tomoyo's eyes could not have grown any wider as she listened, Sakura thought, and by the time the story was finally over, Tomoyo had been rendered nearly speechless. But once she found herself able to speak again, she fired question after question, hardly letting Sakura answer one before moving onto the next.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," Tomoyo said, her head tilted to the side. "Syaoran Li... Syaoran Li rescued you?"

"Er... Well I wouldn't say he _rescued_ me—"

"And then he brought you up to his studio?"

"Yeah, it was the only way to avoid attracting the attention of the paparazzi again—"

"Even though _you're_ technically a paparazzo, too?"

"Yeah, that part was a little odd, I'm not exactly sure what he was thinking. One thing's for sure, he's not the smartest celebrity out there—"

"_And he spent his whole day with you?_" Tomoyo's voice was rising drastically in pitch again, making Sakura back up a little, a nervous laugh escaping her.

"Only because he had to—he told me I couldn't go to the hospital alone and he wouldn't leave me by myself when we were waiting, that's all."

"That's _all_?" Tomoyo squealed. "Oh my gosh, Sakura, I think he likes you!"

"_What_?" It was Sakura's turn to raise her voice. "Tomoyo, that's crazy! What made you jump to that conclusion?"

"Think about it," Tomoyo said, clapping her hands. "He let you into his studio even though you're the very type of person he was trying to avoid. He took care of your nose, and even if he said some not-so-nice things about you, he apologized and took you to the hospital, even though he could've gotten caught. He _insisted_ on staying with you, he took you home, and he gave you his number! What kind of guy—what kind of _celebrity_—does that unless he's interested in you?"

Sakura averted Tomoyo's eyes, looking off to the side uncomfortably. "I know it all sounds a little...abnormal," she admitted. "I don't know what his motives were. But I'm pretty positive he's not interested in me like that. If anything, he's just a nice guy."

Tomoyo sighed. "You can't even let me fantasize about this, can you? Have you even called him yet?"

Sakura looked at her phone, which sat on the table. "No," she said sheepishly. "I saved his number and everything, and I've thought about it all day, but... He's a celebrity."

"So?"

"So that's a little weird! I'm sure it was just out of courtesy. It'd be so strange for me to call him and update him on my condition. And I'm fine, honestly."

Tomoyo pursed her lips. "You are the _strangest_ girl, Sakura. Any other girl in Japan would probably commit some serious crimes to obtain that phone number, and you're avoiding it."

Sakura shrugged. "What can I say? It makes me uncomfortable. Now can we go back to watching the movie? I was actually really interested in it."

Tomoyo laughed, switching the DVD back on. "Sure."

"I never did get any good pictures of him, though," Sakura sighed. "There goes one of my better paychecks."

Just then, Sakura's phone went off, buzzing loudly against the table. Her eyes widened as she picked it up.

Tomoyo scooted closer to see who it was. "I _knew_ it!" she squealed upon seeing. "Syaoran Li is calling you!"

Sakura stared at the phone, not knowing what to do as it lit up over and over, until an incredulous Tomoyo grabbed the phone and in one swift movement, hit the "answer" button and put it on speakerphone, looking at Sakura with an expression that Sakura could only describe as _are-you-crazy-why-wouldn't-you-pick-up_.

"Hello?" the voice that sounded through the speaker was rough, solemn—most definitely Syaoran's, Sakura thought.

Tomoyo nudged Sakura in the waist, prompting her to answer.

"Er... Hi?" she said, shrugging at Tomoyo, indicating that she didn't know what to say.

"You never called me."

"Oh, uh... Yeah. I'm sorry. I figured you would be busy, and I didn't want to bug you—"

"That's dumb."

"Excuse me?" Sakura said, indignant. She had almost forgotten how rude he could be.

"I was kind of worried. It was distracting," he grumbled then, catching her off guard.

Tomoyo looked at Sakura with wide eyes. _"Oh, my God,_" she mouthed.

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, her voice softer. "I'm fine, though. I feel great. Thank you again for taking me to the hospital."

"It was nothing. So you're okay?"

Sakura nodded, and then, remembering that he couldn't see her, spoke out loud. "Yeah. I'm sorry for not calling, though. I guess it was a little rude, after all—especially if you were distracted all day."

"I wasn't distracted _all _day," he said, his voice suddenly defensive, and then it grew a little quieter once more. "But it was a welcome distraction, in a way."

Sakura and Tomoyo exchanged a glance before Tomoyo said quietly, "Tell him you need pictures."

Sakura shook her head furiously. "Are you crazy? I can't just ask him to meet up," she whispered.

"Just do it. What could it hurt?" Tomoyo whispered back. "If you don't, I will—"

And with that, Sakura clapped a hand over her best friend's mouth and laughed nervously before speaking. "Uh... Well, if you want more distractions from my end, well... This is going to sound really stupid and I understand if you don't want to do it, but..." She paused, not knowing if she could quite bring herself to ask. It was so tactless.

"Yes?"

She sighed. "Do you think there's any way we could meet up and I could get a few photos of you? I sort of really needed them when I was at the studio and I hardly got any at all..."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment, and Sakura bit her lip, feeling dumb. Of _course_ he would say no, since any self-respecting celebrity would—

And then, much to her astonishment, a chuckle came over the speaker. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but why not. What are you doing tomorrow?"

* * *

That's it for chapter six! I know this doesn't answer any questions about Sakura's blue-eyed stranger, but I _promise_ it'll all be explained in the next chapter. I know I've been saying that about her past for like, the last three chapters, but I just keep coming up with all this material to put in between and it keeps getting pushed back! But there's no avoiding it in chapter seven, I promise. Although, to answer a common thought, the stranger **is not Eriol**. It'll be an original character, and I suppose the mystery is more in her history with him rather than who he is.

Regarding the song lyrics in this chapter, they're all modified translated Korean songs. The lyrics from Syaoran's "Stay" are actually inspired by the translated lyrics of a Korean song called "Stay" by a group called SG Wannabe. I took a few translated lines and added my own as well—but, alas, I'm terrible at rhyming, so I hope it's all right that my lyrics don't really rhyme. XD Syaoran's line from "Nightlight" is actually line from Epik High's "Pencil Sharpener," although the original translated line would be, "You color this black-and-white world with your beautiful rhyme."

**To DEH **– You're actually so right, and I had a hard time deliberating what amount of time Sakura would have to spend waiting in the ER before she was seen. I figured a bloody nose wasn't _too_ urgent, but then again, if it's been bleeding for a while, I guess it could be considered pretty serious?

All right, that's it for now! I'll be back with chapter seven soon, and that's a promise! It'll be full of Sakura and Syaoran, since it's mainly (if not completely) about their next meeting. See you guys soon, thanks for reading! Please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing.

Love,

boreum dal


	7. a means to forget

**radio star**

vii. a means to forget

"All right. Tomorrow around five, then? No one will be in the studio lot at that time because I'm scheduled to be somewhere else, so you shouldn't have to worry about any photographers smashing your nose in again," Syaoran said into his phone, smirking.

"Thanks for your concern," Sakura muttered sarcastically. "Tomorrow around five, it is."

Without saying goodbye, she hung up, and Syaoran stared at his phone in surprise before laughing to himself. It was rare that anyone besides Meiling found the nerve to hang up on him.

He went back over the conversation in his head and realized how bizarre it sounded that he had willingly agreed to meet up with a paparazzo so she could shoot photographs of him, but at least they would be ones he would willingly take, he thought.

Of course, though, that wasn't the real reason he'd agreed to it.

A very firm _no_ had been on the tip of his tongue, and then in a sudden two-second moment of deliberation, he'd remembered how oddly comforting her presence had been. It had been such a nice distraction to be with her all day—it had made him forget, for the first time since the scandal had occurred, the burdens of his stardom. He couldn't quite place why that was—perhaps it was her normalcy, in spite of the intrusive job she'd taken on. He wanted to feel that again. He ached for it. So, he'd said yes.

Now, he just had to figure out how he was going to tell Meiling. She would murder him... And then possibly bring him back to life just so she could murder him once more.

* * *

Sakura put down the phone, feeling dazed as Tomoyo stared at her in shock.

"Sakura, did you just hang up on Syoaran Li?"

She laughed. "I think I just did. He hasn't called me back to cancel on me, though, so I guess he can't be too angry." Her tone grew defensive. "But he totally deserved it! Just because he's famous doesn't mean he can be a jerk to me!"

"It sounded more like he was teasing you," Tomoyo said, and then she gasped. "Syaoran Li was _teasing _you! Oh my God, Sakura, it's like you guys are best friends!"

Sakura laughed again, shaking her head. "Would you stop it? I hardly know the guy. I've just run into him a couple of times. And quit calling him 'Syaoran Li.' It's weird."

"What else am I supposed to call him? That's his name."

"Yeah, but isn't it unnecessary to call him by his full name? You don't run around calling me Sakura Kinomoto."

"Yeah, but we're best friends. He's a _celebrity_. I can't just call him by his first name, or—"

"Or what, the police will arrest you?" Sakura teased, sticking out her tongue. She grinned. "Let's just drop it and watch the movie, okay? I'll tell you all about it tomorrow after I'm home. I promise."

"You call me first thing," Tomoyo said, pointing a finger at Sakura.

"All right, all right."

As the movie began to play again, Sakura found it difficult to concentrate. It was bizarre watching Syaoran on the screen and knowing that she'd be meeting with this same person again tomorrow. She wondered what had driven him to say yes. Plenty of people had called her strange, but she wondered what they'd all say if she told them that she didn't hold a candle to Syaoran Li in terms of strangeness.

* * *

"A paparazzo? You sure are full of surprises." Eriol chuckled, setting his coffee mug down and watching his friend from across his desk.

"What, are you gonna tell on me?" Syaoran responded, his chin in his hand.

Syaoran had called Eriol immediately following his call to Sakura, as his schedule had dictated that he would be at the Hiiragizawa Publications building at 5:30 the next evening. Eriol had told him to come by since he was working late, so Syaoran had picked up dinner for the both of them and let himself into the building. Syaoran had explained the situation, figuring it'd be better to do so in person than to relay it through Meiling—he still didn't know what he was going to tell her—and Eriol had reacted with amusement more than anything else. Syaoran looked around. He hadn't been to his friend's office for non-business purposes in a very long time. He felt his shoulders relax a little.

"Of course not," Eriol shrugged. "I'll just tell Meiling that I couldn't make the appointment. With how busy I am lately, it's not really unbelievable."

Syaoran nodded. "Yeah, Meiling tells me you've got a lot on your plate."

Eriol snorted. "Understatement. I think Father is getting ready to hand the company down to me in a few years, so a lot of the major work is starting to come to me instead of him. And some of these people I'm working with, I've gotta tell you—you have no idea how full of themselves they are—"

"Do you remember the industry I work for?" Syaoran said, raising an eyebrow. "I have more than an idea."

"Ah. Somehow, I forget that you're the country's most famous singer sometimes," Eriol said, smiling. "But, back to the topic. I'm curious. You know I'm not letting you walk out with just that little explanation. Who is she?"

Syaoran sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know, some inexperienced paparazzo who I've managed to spend an already absurd amount of time with lately. My life was already bizarre before, but this just takes it to new levels, really." He proceeded to explain how Sakura had first approached him and their following encounter and trip to the hospital.

Eriol had to wipe tears of laughter from his eyes as Syaoran finished his story. "This is crazy. You can't write this kind of stuff. What the hell are you thinking? You know Meiling would kill you if she found out what you were doing tomorrow instead, right?"

Syaoran glared at Eriol, and then averted his gaze to the ceiling in a manner resembling an eyeroll. He drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk, agitated. "I know it's weird," he finally mumbled. "And I know it's stupid. But it was one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions... I was about to tell her no."

Eriol tried to decide whether or not he was surprised as he watched Syaoran struggle for an explanation.

It wasn't quite that Syaoran was doing something crazy that surprised Eriol so much. Syaoran had been in a weird place for the last few months, thanks mainly to the scandal that had erupted in his life. Losing Mizuki had only fueled this strange suffocation that had settled over his life, Eriol thought. Syaoran had always known how to deal with the storm that was his immense fame, for he had spent most of his life in the spotlight; but Eriol's observation was that Syaoran only managed to weather this storm. When Mizuki had become his support system, he had conquered it. And now that she was gone—and since she had left in the manner that she had, scandal and all—he was ready to sink.

Eriol knew Syaoran best out of anyone, save, perhaps, for Meiling; and despite the cool, collected front that Syaoran was so adept at keeping up, Eriol could see when his friend was struggling. And he had been struggling for months now, so desperate measures weren't completely out of the question.

What surprised Eriol the most was the act itself. Syaoran hated the paparazzi. After all, they contributed most significantly to the problems in his life. So what was it about this one paparazzo in particular? Granted, she didn't sound menacing, or even intrusive, which was odd. Syaoran had said, a smirk on his face, that she was new to her job and that she seemed like she had no idea what she was doing. But still—he had never been one to waste his time on people like that. He was a pragmatist. Eriol couldn't figure it out.

"There's something really funny about her," Syaoran finally said, shrugging.

"That's all you could come up with?" Eriol said, amused and disappointed all at once.

"I don't know. This is going to sound really dumb, but yesterday, when I spent the day with her, I barely thought about any of this shit that's been going on at all. It was a relief. Like a headache that subsided temporarily, or something." Syaoran grinned slightly to himself. "Although, I guess she has the kind of personality to start another headache altogether."

Eriol laughed.

There it was. She was a means to forget. How could he say no to something like that? Syaoran had been plagued by his fame all his life, and recently more than usual; it was the irony of ironies, but somehow, this paparazzo took his mind off of that, and although Eriol was curious as to how, he figured he'd get the details eventually.

"All right. You have my word. I'll call Meiling after you leave to cancel. If she finds out I was in on this, though, she's going to come in and decapitate me or something equally scary..." Eriol shuddered at the thought of being on Meiling's bad side.

Syaoran grinned. "Don't worry. She won't find out." Syaoran closed his now-empty dinner to-go box and tossed it in Eriol's trash bin. He stood up, and with a wave, turned around to leave.

"You owe me one," Eriol called, smiling as he returned to his paperwork.

"Not a problem," Syaoran responded, not turning around to say goodbye.

* * *

Sakura watched her reflection in the mirror as she tied up her hair. Straightening her blouse and glancing over herself once more, she nodded before she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

_Time to go meet Syaoran Li again._

It was a strange thought, one that she'd never have predicted she would have the opportunity to think. Even after their first encounter, she wouldn't have guessed that she'd be able to claim that she'd spent this much time with someone so famous.

She also couldn't have guessed that she'd be able to say much about his character, either, but in spite of his ego and his slight jerk complex, Sakura actually found that she was strangely at ease with this person. She'd never been one to be blinded by fame, so perhaps that was why, but she had always been certain that she wouldn't be able to act so carefree around someone of Syaoran's celebrity. It was a relief, though; work felt much less like work when it was this way.

As she got off of the bus and headed towards the recording studio across the street, Sakura looked around; Syaoran had been right. The streets were empty save for a few passing cars and several innocent bystanders walking around in the distance; the scene looked vastly different from the sidewalk that had swarmed with paparazzi only two days before. Walking around to the back of the building, Sakura bit her lip as she scrolled to Syaoran's number and hit _call_.

(As much as she had reprimanded Tomoyo for being so starstruck, Sakura had decided to erase Syaoran's number from her phone as "Syaoran Li," for having his name in her phone as a contact was too strange of a concept to her. As a result, she had simply changed his contact name to "Strange Man," which was a true enough description of him. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, she'd figured.)

"Hello?"

"Hi. I'm here," Sakura said into the phone, glancing around. She felt ridiculous for being so paranoid, but if there were any other paparazzo around, her personal life would pretty much go to hell.

"Be right down."

Within moments, Syaoran had opened the door in front of her, and Sakura had to restrain herself from laughing as he did the exact same thing, poking his head around to see if anyone else was in the vicinity before stepping out entirely.

"How are you?" Sakura said, and then she reflexively wondered to herself if it was strange to be asking him something like that.

_Quit_, she told herself. _You've said plenty of times to Tomoyo that he's no different from the rest of us just because he's a celebrity._

"I'm all right," Syaoran said, shrugging and lacing his fingers behind his head. "You? How's your nose?"

Sakura sighed. She'd never live that one down, would she? "It's fine. I don't feel a thing anymore. I really do owe you for everything, even today—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's not a big deal," Syaoran said, waving it off. He put his hands on his hips, looking around as he thought. "So, let's figure out how we're gonna do this."

Sakura raised an eyebrow at the interruption, but figuring she'd voiced her gratitude enough for him to get the message, she shrugged and moved along. "I guess it wouldn't make sense if I took photos of you inside the studio, since paparazzi don't have access inside the building..."

Syaoran nodded. "How many shots do you need?"

"As many as I can get." Sakura was still perplexed in the back of her mind as to why he was even letting her do this. As much as she hated to admit it, she was incredibly curious. From what she'd read, he was a notoriously private celebrity. Wasn't this a little out of character for him?

Syaoran nodded. "All right. Here's the plan."

The next half-hour was spent, for only the second time in both Syaoran's and Sakura's lives, taking a staged set of paparazzi photos. Syaoran had sent Sakura across the street from the parking lot to make the distance of the photos look more stealthy and convincing, and then he'd proceeded to get in his car, as though he'd just arrived at the studio. As soon as the car door opened, Sakura began to snap pictures, and she'd giggled as he moved with exaggerated slowness to allow her to get better pictures. At the point where he moved his hands in slow motion to take his sunglasses off of his face, Sakura lost it, laughing hysterically, and hearing her from across the street, Syaoran had broken down and grinned as well.

"Wait, wait," Sakura called, looking at the screen on her camera, as he began to move in slow motion across the parking lot. "We might have to retake a couple of the ones after you take off your sunglasses."

"Why?"

"You're smiling in like, all of these! Wouldn't that look suspicious?"

Syaoran frowned, looking over at her. "What if I just happened to be in a really good mood or something?"

"No offense, but I've had to see a lot of candids of you out and about in my work, and I've never seen one of you smiling," Sakura called back.

Syaoran was flabbergasted at her confession, but then he sighed. It shouldn't have come as a surprise; Meiling was always getting onto him about looking so surly all the time. But really, he couldn't help it if he hated the intrusion of privacy. That was certainly nothing to smile about. He groaned. "Whatever," he shouted back across the street. "We're going to start a new trend, then. I refuse to take those over. I feel stupid enough as it is doing this."

Sakura laughed, and then she shrugged, raising the camera back up as Syaoran continued his zombie-like walk across the parking lot. "Whatever you say."

* * *

"Oh, God. These are ridiculous," Syaoran said, holding Sakura's camera in his hand as he looked over the pictures.

Even so, a grin flitted across his lips again, and as Sakura watched him, she truly understood for the first time why the country was so enamored with him. Indeed, she wouldn't ever deny that he was incredibly talented and charismatic, and she'd thought from the start that he was definitely attractive in a conventional way, but it was when he smiled that she saw his true appeal. It added something bright, soft, to the strong bone structure of his face, making his eyes light up with an almost orange glow.

_Come to think of it,_ she thought, _I haven't really seen him smile much in person, either. It suits him._

Syaoran handed the camera back to her, snapping her out of her thoughts. He stretched before looking at his watch. "Man, I really was planning on getting some work done. We took a little longer than I thought we would."

"Ah. Sorry about that," Sakura mumbled.

"Don't worry about it. Are you hungry?"

Sakura looked up at him, perplexed. "Er... A little, I guess—why?"

"I'm starving. We probably can't go anywhere to eat without getting photographed, but you can come in. There's a small kitchen downstairs. I can make us ramen."

Sakura held up a hand, about to refuse—there was something confusing about spending time with Syaoran, although she enjoyed it, and confusion, particularly over someone incredibly famous, was the last thing she needed at the moment. Unfortunately, though, her stomach beat her mouth, and its low growl indicated that she should say yes.

"Sure, why not?" Sakura sighed, although she could probably have fired off ten answers to that question, and she followed him inside.

Conversation between them was surprisingly easy as Syaoran stood at the stove, making ramen, and Sakura sat at the little table in the kitchen. Both refrained from asking anything too personal, but through the conversation, Sakura found Syaoran to be quite grounded for a celebrity, and Syaoran, as he'd predicted, once again found himself forgetting his troubles as an unfamiliar ease settled over him.

"All right," Syaoran said, carrying the pot of ramen over to the table and setting two bowls out in front of them. He tossed her a pair of wooden chopsticks across the table, lifting his chin a little. "Eat up."

Sakura stared at him in surprise, not even bothering to reach out to grab the chopsticks, which fell on the floor.

_She felt a pair of arms slide around her waist from behind and she squealed, turning around to see laughter in his eyes. _

"_Dinner's ready," he said, grinning at her reaction._

"_It was my turn to cook today, you know—"_

"_Whatever, you have yet to taste my delicious—"_

"_Two-minute ramen?" she finished teasingly._

"_Ten-minute," he corrected, steering her over to the table and sitting her in a chair. "Besides, its delicious." _

_Grabbing a pair of chopsticks, he tossed them at her across the table, lifting his chin slightly. "Eat up!"_

"_Honestly," she laughed, "do you have to throw them at me every time? You might poke an eye out one day."_

_Before she could begin to eat, he stood up, walked over to her side, and held her face in his hands before kissing both of her eyelids. _

"_I love you."_

_It was the first time in all her life she'd ever heard words so tender spoken to her like that._

"Sakura?" Syaoran frowned, walking over and grabbing the pair of chopsticks and handing them to her. "Are you all right?"

Sakura shook her head to clear it, blinking a few times. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, smiling. "Sorry, I just got caught up in a memory."

"You picked a random time for it," Syaoran mused, sitting back down in his own chair.

Sakura laughed. "Yeah." She looked at the pot of ramen before her. She wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but she put some in her bowl anyway. "Thank you, this looks great."

* * *

Syaoran frowned as he watched Sakura, who was scrolling through pictures on her camera on the sofa across from him.

She had been about to leave after dinner, and Syaoran had originally held no intentions of keeping her there any longer, but he'd changed his mind. Her mood had changed so abruptly that it had startled him, and she'd been uncomfortably quiet for almost the entire meal. He wondered if it had been something he'd done. It didn't particularly affect him one way or another if she was upset about something, but it was bothersome to Syaoran in that she was no longer the lively presence he'd been seeking out.

So, he'd asked her if she wanted to stay for coffee, or maybe some tea, and with a slightly surprised expression, she'd merely nodded and followed him upstairs to the same room where he'd taken her when she had hurt her nose.

He didn't want to pry, but it was eating at him. They'd only met a few times, but he had never seen her like this before. It was unsettling. He sighed, figuring there was no harm in asking.

"Is something bothering you?"

Sakura looked up from her camera. "Hm?"

Syaoran shrugged. "It seems like something about you is... I don't know, off, I guess."

Sakura felt her eyebrows rise at his perceptiveness, but she quickly laughed it off, setting the camera down on the coffee table and reaching instead for the cup of tea that Syaoran had poured for her earlier. "You hardly know me. How can you know if something is off about me?"

"Call it intuition, or maybe since the last two times I've met you, you were a chatterbox. You've just been awfully quiet, ever since dinner."

Sakura shrugged. "Nothing's wrong."

Of course something was wrong, but who was she to open up to a complete stranger, and a celebrity, at that? She was acutely aware of how he was watching her unabashedly, his legs propped up on the coffee table and his torso draped over the sofa. Why was he so observant? Weren't celebrities supposed to be completely self-absorbed?

Eventually, it became too much to bear, and she sighed.

"Okay. You're right, something's been bugging me. So what? What are you going to do about it?" Sakura didn't mean for her words to come out as hostile as they did.

"I could listen. And if I'm warranted, maybe I could offer you advice."

"It's silly," Sakura muttered.

"Try me." Syaoran crossed his arms, his gaze on her unwavering.

Sakura looked down at the cup of tea in her hands, wondering for a moment where she should start.

"Well, I have this ex... We dated for three years, through most of my college career. We broke up about a year ago and stopped talking almost half a year ago, and—" Sakura glanced up at Syaoran, and she found her confidence wilting under his watch once more. "I've just been thinking about him, that's all," she finished softly.

Syaoran shrugged. "I know that's not the whole story. If you're not comfortable telling me, it's okay. But," he said, meeting her eyes dead-on, "you should know that I've seen and heard a lot of ridiculous things in my lifetime. I wouldn't judge you for anything."

Sakura bit her lip. Of course she wanted to vent; it wasn't in her nature to keep things bottled up. And his presence was oddly soothing despite the idea that his celebrity should have been intimidating. But was she really about to divulge one of the most personal parts of her past to a stranger?

_Are we really strangers, though? We're almost acting like friends._

Really, what could it hurt?

Sakura set the tea down on the coffee table and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She sighed and looked up at him. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes. "Actually, I was planning on running to the tabloids and telling them everything," he said. "_You're_ the gossip columnist here, remember? You have my word."

Sakura flushed, but she appreciated his promise all the same. Nodding to herself, she began to continue where she'd left off. "We broke up a few days after I graduated college. I guess it made sense—we were going separate ways and we wanted different things. But we still kept in touch, because we said we were best friends and that nothing would change that."

Syaoran scoffed, and rather than getting offended, Sakura smiled ruefully. "I know. It was silly of me to think it could be like that."

Syaoran held back his surprise at her reaction, watching her more carefully now. What had happened to make her so remorseful, he wondered?

"Anyway," Sakura continued, "I was still very much in love with him when things ended. So of course talking to him as a friend meant a lot more to me." She paused, her brow furrowing, as she looked off to the side. "I'm not really sure what it meant to him. And now, I even wonder what his motives were."

"Is he the one who broke up with you?"

Sakura nodded.

Syaoran's jaw visibly hardened before he spoke again. "It's almost always harder for the person who got left behind."

Sakura remembered then that he'd had his own share of heartbreak, and that he'd had to weather it in front of the whole world. It suddenly seemed easier to tell him her story.

"You're probably right. I'm positive it was easier for him. I'm sure that he thought about getting back together every once in awhile, but for me, it was different. Every night that we talked, I had to wrestle with my hopes, trying to quell them because I had to stop myself from thinking things would go back to the way they'd been."

She sighed shakily, and she widened her eyes, feeling silly that she could tear up about something that had happened so long ago. "We were from the same hometown. So a few months after we'd broken up, when we both went home to visit for the holidays, we decided it'd be okay to see each other."

Syaoran knew where this was going. He resisted the urge to say anything and waited for her to continue.

"We spent a lot of nights together over that period. I feel so bad for him, he must have felt so awkward," she said, laughing, although her laughter didn't sound quite right. "A lot of times, we'd be lying in bed and I would just start crying because I didn't know what to do. I wanted him to come back to me for good. He called it 'being friends,' but it fucked with my mind so much. I just wanted his full devotion again."

She shook her head. "It was so stupid of me," she muttered. "I should have known I was asking for too much."

A period of silence followed as Sakura stared at the floor, her gaze cast downward, lost in her own thoughts and nearly forgetting Syaoran was even there.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Hm?" She raised her head, drawn back out of the confines of her mind. Her tone was careful—pleasant, almost—when she continued. "Oh, right. Well, we talked about it a lot. He told me he wasn't certain what he wanted anymore, because before he had seen me again, he had been so sure that he didn't want to be with me. But now that he'd spent time with me, he didn't know—because he realized he still loved me, he said. And God, how excited I was to hear that, you have no idea. I'm pretty sure that's the closest my heart has ever come to exploding," she said, smiling a little at the thought of it. "Our last night before we both had to leave town again, I told him that I'd made clear what I wanted from him, and that it was up to him. I promised him I'd be fine either way. I told him I'd give him some time to think about it... So he kissed me good night, and the next morning, I left town." She wrinkled her nose, finally looking back up at Syaoran. "This is the part I absolutely hate telling, because this is the part where I sound like the biggest idiot."

Syaoran said nothing, but his expression was mild, open. It was enough for Sakura, somehow.

"For weeks after I came back to Tokyo, I called him and texted him, keeping up this pretense of friendship, always hoping he'd tell me that he'd finally come to a decision—even if it meant that he had decided not to be with me, after all. But I never heard. And so finally, one night," she said, her voice suddenly dropping in volume, "I called him and asked him. I told him I just couldn't wait anymore."

Syaoran pursed his lips. "And?"

Sakura looked up at the ceiling, avoiding Syaoran's eyes and closing her own, feeling childish for the tears that were finally escaping from beneath her lids. "He told me he'd been dating another girl, someone he'd been talking to for months, for about a week, and that he was sorry," she said, exhaling a short breath of disbelief, even now. "I guess it was dumb of me, but I had just been under the impression that it was either me or no one else. But he'd never promised me that, so it was wrong of me to assume. I just couldn't make sense of it—how could you still be in love with someone and then move on to someone else anyway? He said he still wanted to be friends, but—" Sakura shook her head. "I told him that I probably couldn't talk to him for a long, long time. And he said that it was okay, and that he would be ready to be friends again whenever I came back around, but I don't think it's going to be that way. Ever." She let out a long, shaky exhale.

Biting her lip and lifting a finger to wipe away a tear before it fell, she mumbled her next few words. "And I try not to think about it, because it's been awhile now and he's perfectly happy and I've been fine, but lately—"

She pressed a fist against her mouth, crying in earnest now; she hadn't retold that story since she'd told Tomoyo after it had first happened. She hadn't expected the wounds to still feel so fresh. And she felt horribly embarrassed—really, she hardly knew this guy, and although it was silly, somehow it felt like a taboo to be sobbing like this over something so stupid in front of someone famous, someone who had seen and heard it all already.

Syaoran didn't know what to say. He knew the heartache she was feeling, but at the same time, it hadn't quite ended the same way for him. At least Mizuki hadn't made such an attempt to string him along. He hadn't spoken to her since they had ended things. He watched Sakura try to stop her tears, and he wanted to move beside her and contain it somehow, or perhaps help her to let it all out—but how weird would that be, he wondered? He'd never been particularly affectionate with anyone besides his ex-girlfriend, and he was wary of lending his affections to another girl at all.

But he couldn't just ignore her, he thought, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying to figure out if he should move to help her. She was a nice girl, undeserving of the hurt she'd received. His frown grew deeper as he watched her blink rapidly and wipe her eyes on her sleeve, trying to stop herself from crying anymore.

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, sniffling and then breaking into a half-attempted laugh. "This is all such old news, and everyone has to go through it at some point. But thank you for listening, I really appreciate it—"

She looked up and nearly jumped back in surprise. Syaoran was no longer sitting on the sofa across the coffee table from her, but rather standing right before her, his hand held out and an almost exasperated look on his face.

"Syaoran, what—"

"Come on," he said. "I know something that'll make you feel better."

* * *

That's the end of chapter seven! So, finally, now you know who the blue-eyed guy is from a couple of chapters before, although he is nameless as of yet. If it wasn't clear, he was also the one from her memory in this chapter, which was triggered by Syaoran's incredibly similar mannerisms to her ex. That memory was of the first time he told her he loved her, if that wasn't clear, either. XD (I try to go for subtlety, but I guess I'm ruining it if I feel like I should explain at the end of the chapter... -sweatdrop-) Anyway, Syaoran thinks he's not very emotionally invested in this whole thing and that he's kind of in on it because he likes the way it makes him feel, but if you like the way someone makes you feel, then you'll probably grow to care for that person, don't you think? Haha. I hope I'm not moving them along too fast—at this point, I'm trying to portray them as strictly platonic. Hope I'm succeeding. Well, thank you for reading, and please leave a review on your way out! See you guys again soon, hopefully!

Love,

boreum dal


	8. high

**radio star**

viii. high

"Where exactly are we going again?" Sakura asked, playing with her fingers as she turned to look at Syaoran.

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the last several days, Sakura had found herself buckled into Syaoran's car on her way to God knew where. She had initially protested, telling him that it was getting late and that she had to go home; but somehow, she'd ended up letting him grab her hand and pull her outside to his car. She'd asked him several times where he was taking her, and he had consistently given her one reply, his eyes on the road the entire time.

"You'll see."

"This is kind of creepy," she muttered.

Syaoran merely smirked in response, much to Sakura's frustration.

"Do you _try_ to provoke people like this all the time, or does it just come naturally?" she said, sticking her tongue out.

"Only around you," he responded in a mock-flattering tone, but his grin grew wider.

To her surprise, Sakura had to fight back a smile, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She lowered her head a bit so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing.

"Thank you," she finally said. "I know I've been burdensome, asking you for all these favors, and now I've dragged you into my emotional business as well—"

"Why are you always so apologetic? I appreciate that you're grateful and all, but I'm a nice guy. I do what I can for people. It's not a burden. I offered—I wanted to do this."

Sakura stared at him for a while, unsure of what to say back. It was such a casual, normal, _comfortable_ statement that, no matter how _she_ felt about their relationship, she knew in that moment that Syaoran Li was rather certain that they were truly friends.

A silence settled over the car, and Sakura took the time to finally look around at their surroundings to see at least in which direction Syaoran was driving them, hoping to clear up some of the mystery. To her surprise, she found them in the downtown business district, surrounded by towering skyscrapers whose glassy walls reflected the oncoming sunset.

"Are we going to a business meeting?" Sakura asked, both amused and curious.

Syaoran snorted. "I would lose all credibility as an artist if I dragged the likes of you into a business meeting."

Sakura lightly slapped Syaoran on the arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not in your best interest to slap the driver, you know."

Sakura huffed, crossing her arms, and the glare on her face only intensified when she heard Syaoran chuckling beside her. "Just _what_ is so funny?"

"You get riled up about everything so easily," he said, turning to look at her. "I don't mean half the things I say, but it's fun to see your reaction."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at him, but she found it hard to keep up any sort of hostility towards him when she saw him grinning at her again. She felt her heart pulsating all the way to the palm of her hands for a moment and heard a _stopitstopitstopit _running through her head. She wasn't quite sure whether she was mentally pleading with Syaoran or herself to do so.

"All right, we're here," Syaoran said, pulling into a reserved parking space parallel to one of the buildings.

Sakura looked up at it; she recognized this one even when she saw the skyline miles away. This one was Hiiragizawa Publications, its top adorned with a gold-wrought pyramid of gilded beams that lit up the whole city at night. She dreamed about working for magazines that this company managed. She'd never set foot inside the building before.

"What are we doing here? It's closed for the day," Sakura said, still craning her head up to stare at the building.

"Can't you ever just not ask questions and wait and see? It's not like you have better places to be or anything."

"How do _you_ know that?" Sakura grumbled, but she followed along as Syaoran headed towards the back of the building.

She watched bemusedly as he selected a key from his key ring and proceeded to unlock the emergency exit, revealing a brightly lit stairwell. How did he have access to this building?

As though he had read her mind, Syaoran finally started to give her some clue as to what they were doing here.

"The Hiiragizawa family is very close to mine," he explained as he led her up the stairwell, his voice reverberating from wall to wall. "Eriol is my closest friend."

Sakura's eyes nearly turned into saucers, and her voice was full of sudden admiration as she spoke. "You're _friends_ with Eriol Hiiragizawa?"

Syaoran paused his climb up the stairs to turn around and raise an eyebrow at Sakura. "I'm trying not to let my ego get the better of me here, but are you really telling me that you hadn't heard of me at all prior to meeting me, and yet you're a fan of someone as obscure as Eriol?"

Sakura gasped, offended. "He's not obscure! They're one of the best companies a journalist could work for in eastern Asia, and Eriol is next in line to run it. So there have been pieces on him that I've read about..." She glanced off to the side, blushing.

Syaoran stared at her curiously before realization dawned on his face. "Oh, God." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you're one of his crazy fangirls. Not that there are many of them—but when there are, they're always crazy. And trust me, I know crazy."

"I'm _not_ a crazy fangirl," Sakura said indignantly. "It's perfectly within my right to be interested, since it has to do with my work. And besides, the only thing that could make a person more famous than being the heir to an empire is being the _attractive_ heir to an empire, right?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes before turning around to climb again. "Whatever."

Sakura laughed as they climbed up one more flight of stairs before Syaoran opened a door that led to the glossy main lobby, currently unlit and empty.

"It sounds like you're a little jealous," she teased before taking a moment to look around in wonder at the high ceilings, the marbled floors, the ornately crafted furnishings. The lobby alone was larger than even Tomoyo's mansion in Tomoeda.

"Jealous of what?" Syaoran called as he strolled to the elevator, not bothering to wait for Sakura.

Sakura balked at his immaturity, but without protest, she ran across the lobby to catch up. "That someone finally doesn't know who _you_ are but knows your best friend," she said as she slid into the elevator beside him.

"Please," Syaoran muttered, hitting the button for the top floor. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Can you tell me where we're going now?" Sakura asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Syaoran merely held a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence and continued to watch the dial indicating the floor level tick higher and higher.

Sakura glared at him before pouting and crossing her arms, inching a little farther away and leaning against the wall opposite him.

He smirked. She really was a child.

They rode the rest of the way in silence until they reached the top floor. Without another word, Syaoran led Sakura through a darkened marble hallway and opened a side door that led to another set of stairs. Sakura knew that she'd just get another snide remark if she asked again where they were going, but her frustration and curiosity were coming to a head as they climbed. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't care what his surprise was and that she did want to go home after all, Syaoran opened a door and stepped outside, indicating for her to do the same.

Her mouth nearly fell open at the beauty of what she saw.

They were on the rooftop of the Hiiragizawa Publications building, standing beneath the pyramid structure and looking out at the blazing sky cast over miles and miles of Tokyo streets.

Entranced, Sakura walked as far out towards the edge as she could, unable to contain the grin spreading on her face.

"Sunset's in ten minutes," Syaoran's voice came behind her.

Sakura whirled around, the grin on her face stretched from ear to ear. "This is _spectacular_!"

He sat down, swinging his legs over the ledge, and patted the ground beside him for Sakura to do the same. She hesitated for a moment—it was a little frightening, as they were fifty-five stories above ground—but Syaoran seemed practiced enough at it and _he_ hadn't fallen to his death yet, and so she gingerly sat herself down beside him.

There was a lot she could have said—wanted to say, really—but the quiet was nice as they watched the dots move around the cityscape so far down below them, and so she waited instead for him to say something.

"Eriol's father used to bring us up here when we were kids," Syaoran finally said, leaning back on his hands and staring out at the sky. "It's always been my favorite place."

"Wouldn't you have been scared of the height as a kid?" Sakura peered over the edge of the building once more and gulped. It seemed a lot more terrifying when she looked straight down, so she forced herself to look back at the sky instead. "Even now, it's a little scary."

Syaoran shook his head. "Not really." He chuckled. "Even if I was scared, I would've acted like I wasn't. Eriol and I were ridiculously competitive, so I'd never have lived it down."

Sakura smiled. "And it's never gotten old, even though you've been coming here since you were a child?"

"Not once." He looked over at her. "Would it get old for you?"

She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, and then she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Nope. I don't think it ever would."

Syaoran glanced at her again as she watched the cityscape. Perhaps it was just because he always revisited his childhood whenever he got the chance to come back up here, but he saw something so appealingly innocent about Sakura in this moment. Although he was the one who'd brought her here to forget about her troubles for a while, he was reminded again how soothing her presence was, that she was almost doing him a favor just by being around him, even if she reminded him of a five-year-old at times.

Suddenly aware of Syaoran's eyes on her, Sakura self-consciously reached a hand up to her hair and twirled a strand around her finger, although she refused to meet his eyes. "What? You're looking at me funny."

Syaoran smirked as he watched a blush creep over her face and shook his head. "Just thinking." He turned his gaze back to the skyline and exhaled. "Pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Sakura nodded. "Thank you. For bringing me here. I hardly even remember why I was upset," she said with a smile.

"Sure," he said, and then he paused for a moment before speaking again, as though he wondered if he was allowed to say what he wanted to say next. "I'm glad you're feeling all right again."

Inexplicably, Sakura felt something warm blossom inside of her chest, and once again, she found herself unable to meet his eyes. She wondered what was the matter with her and then decidedly attributed it to being starstruck—although she'd always considered herself immune to that. Shutting her eyes and then opening them to clear her thoughts, she forced herself to look back at the sky before Syaoran could take note of how strange she looked. She saw that the sun was starting to set and thanked herself for the distraction.

"Look," she said, and Syaoran followed her gaze out to the sky.

The two watched in silence as the glowing orb began to drop behind the skyline, until more and more of it fell below the tops of the skyscrapers in the distance. Sakura's jaw dropped a little as the once-monumental sun turned into the tiniest pinprick of light before disappearing below the horizon entirely, all against the backdrop of thousands of different hues of pink and red and orange and purple. She had never seen anything like it; in her twenty-two years of living, she'd never actually sat down to watch a sunset, especially not like this.

"That was beautiful," Sakura exclaimed, her eyes aglow with excitement as she turned to Syaoran, although her voice was low—she didn't know why, but she felt the need to speak quietly.

"Wait," he said, nodding towards the cityscape, "it's not over quite yet..."

"Oh?" Sakura curiously turned back towards the view before them and then gasped as she watched the exterior lights of the many skyscrapers turn on, some at once and others slowly following suit.

A buzz sounded above them, and then the _click_ of hundreds of lights flickering on, and Sakura looked up to see that they were suddenly bathed in the light of the pyramid of beams that had switched on as well. Her eyes grew wide in awe and her jaw dropped once more, and slowly, she stood herself up and walked herself towards the center of the roof, beneath the peak of the pyramid.

Syaoran found himself watching her reaction rather than the lights, and he couldn't stop the smile that formed slowly on his face. He stood up as well and followed behind her, eyes entirely on her as she walked beneath the glow of the pyramid, her mouth agape and her head craned upward as she tried to take in the beauty of it.

She'd been undeniably attractive, he thought, since he had met her; but like this, underneath these lights and so carefree, epitomizing everything he liked about her with such happiness etched into every feature of her face, her eyes, her lips, she was...

_God, she's pretty._

He shook his head; the moment suddenly seemed all too familiar.

Aside from the Hiiragizawa family and his own family, Syaoran had only ever been up here with one other person: he'd brought Mizuki up to the roof the first night he'd taken her on a date.

_"Wow," Mizuki breathed, her face expressing utter joy as she stared out at the lit-up skyline. Her large green eyes seemed even brighter in the radiant city lights. "Syaoran, did you—did you plan this?" _

_They sat together on the ledge of the rooftop, the illuminated pyramid casting a bright light above them and an empty bottle of champagne—Mizuki had just wrapped her latest film that afternoon—sitting between them._

_He chuckled. "I wish I could say I was so smooth that I'd orchestrated it all, but I just know the timing between a summer sunset and the time the lights go on really well. I come up here pretty often."_

_"Still! This is amazing," she said, and then she shook her head and laughed._

_"What?" Syaoran said, frowning._

_"I have to hand it to you. I never expected you to put on such a good first date. I'm impressed. Maybe I should've taken my agent's advice and started dating you sooner."_

_Syaoran laughed. "You're impressed? Did I not appear very cool when we were just friends?"_

_Mizuki raised an eyebrow. "Are we more than friends now?"_

_He cursed inwardly at the slip-up when suddenly, he felt her hand on his. He looked at her in curiosity._

_Suddenly looking very sober for all the champagne she'd consumed, Mizuki spoke softly, a slight grin playing on her lips. "It's okay. I wouldn't mind, you know."_

_"Mind what?" Syaoran said, suddenly realizing that her eyes weren't an ordinary green, he was so close to her face..._

_"Mind being more than friends, silly," Mizuki smiled, and one of her hands reached up to caress his cheek. _

_"Ah," Syaoran said, and he knew in that moment that he was hers. "Me, either."_

_ He cupped her face with his hands and pulled her closer then, placing his lips over hers and feeling her smile into the kiss._

_Jade—they were jade eyes, he decided._

For the first time all day, Syaoran felt the aching in his chest that thoughts of Mizuki tended to bring about, an aching about which he'd so blissfully forgotten.

He had tried actively not to think about it, but he did indeed see some similarities between Sakura and Mizuki—both were quick to laughter and playful with generally happy demeanors and kind hearts. He would be lying to himself, he thought, if he told himself that the similarities didn't attract him to Sakura somewhat.

But the differences were more obvious to him. While both Mizuki and Sakura were so refreshingly _themselves_ around him, Mizuki had initially been able to do so because she was a colleague in the same industry as he was and thereby used to his celebrity, whereas Sakura was not. Sakura was just... _Sakura._

But what did that even mean, he wondered? He watched Sakura twirl around beneath the lights, her expression euphoric and her arms stretched out.

_What is it about you?_

Sakura felt his eyes on her at that moment and stopped, looking over and beaming at him, she looked so happy.

And then, before he realized what was happening, he watched as Sakura's face fell and she walked over to him, her brow furrowed. She stopped only inches away from him, and her fingers reached up to flutter against his face, tracing the space around his eyes. He watched her in surprise, unsure of what to say and even more unsure of how he felt—he was certain he should have been uncomfortable, but oddly, he wasn't—and then she pulled her hand back as though she'd been burned.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, her gaze averting his once more. She hid her hands behind her back. "I just—you just... You looked really s-sad, all of a sudden."

Syaoran was quiet, still not sure how he should respond. Had he really been so transparent?

"I just wondered what had made you that way so suddenly, and I—I really overstepped my boundaries, didn't I? I'm so sorry," she repeated, waving her hands frantically.

Syaoran grabbed one of her hands to silence her, and she stared for a moment at it before looking back at him curiously.

"It's okay," he said, and he opened his mouth to say more, and then he shut it. He guided her hand back to her side and let it go. He smiled at her, a genuine smile, although the sadness hadn't quite left his eyes, and Sakura found herself breathless again. "How about I take you home?"

Sakura nodded and followed him wordlessly back to the rooftop door after taking a moment to get one more sweeping glance out at the brightly lit cityscape, figuring she wouldn't get an opportunity to see anything like it again in her lifetime.

* * *

The drive home was quiet, marked only by Sakura's sincere thanks and Syaoran's response of "sure." The mood was a strange one, something Sakura couldn't decipher—not uncomfortable or tense, but almost tired, as though they had reached a physical limit to being near each other for the day. As far as she could tell, he wasn't upset with her, but it bothered her—what had made him look so hurt? He'd always looked a little sullen when he wasn't smiling, but she'd never seen him wear that expression before, or that look in his eyes. It unsettled her.

When they reached the parking lot of her apartment, Sakura was unsure how to say goodbye. She sat racking her brain for different ways when Syaoran cleared his throat.

"Thanks, Sakura."

She looked over at him, not sure what he was thanking her for and yet almost certain that if she'd guessed, she would've been right. She didn't try to guess; she'd save that for later.

"I'm probably breaking some journalistic code of ethics here," she said slowly, "but I feel like that went out the window whenever I asked you to pretend you didn't know I was taking pictures of you." She smiled, and before she could stop herself, she unbuckled her seatbelt, reached over the console, and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

She felt him stiffen, and then much to her relief, relax beneath her hold, and she ignored the erratic beating of her heart.

"Cheer up," she murmured into his ear, and without looking at him, she unraveled her arms and stepped out of the car and ran up to her apartment two steps at a time.

Syaoran stayed where he was, dumbfounded, until he saw her reach her apartment and shut the door, and then he let out a long exhale that he didn't know he'd been holding in.

All his life, he'd gotten much more than he'd bargained for.

* * *

That's the end of chapter eight! I really do hope you guys liked it—I think this is the most SxS fluff I've put in a chapter of this story so far! So, a few clarifications—I modeled the Hiiragizawa Publications building off of a real building, so if you'd like to see what I'm talking about for better reference, it's the Bank of America Plaza in Atlanta, Georgia. Google it—it's so pretty! The pyramid really does light up at night. I'd love to stand beneath it one day, if that's even possible. (Thus, I live vicariously through Sakura, haha.) Also, I know that city lights usually turn on before dusk, but for the sake of the story, I said they turn on right at dusk XD And, just to emphasize a point, I want to repeat that, although Syaoran has noted similarities between Sakura and his ex-girlfriend, he's coming to find that the differences are what really appeal to him. So, is he starting to fall? Hm, I think that's for you to decide. But I think it's safe to say that their feelings are markedly different from what they were when they first met. I wrote and rewrote three or four different scenarios that took place up on that rooftop, and I ended up choosing this one because it was the least rushed regarding their relationship, haha. I know I'm a slowpoke, but not to fear, they'll fall hard soon enough! Anyway, thanks for bearing with my late updates and my long author's notes, and thank you for reading! Please leave a review on your way out!

Love,  
boreum dal


	9. an exception

A quick note—to **luckystar27**—I would actually _love_ to change this story title, because you're right. At one point, long ago, the title was relevant to the story, but it is no longer. Unfortunately, I feel like changing the title mid-story isn't very tactical, so I'm trying to figure that out now. I suppose I could make advance warnings for like, three chapters before I actually make the change? Okay, okay, I'll figure it out later—here's the next chapter! Please enjoy and review!

* * *

**radio star**

ix. an exception

Meiling strolled her way through the penthouse floor of Hiiragizawa Publications, heels clicking smartly against the marble floor. From the outside, it would not have appeared that she was anything but calm; her face appeared cheerful enough, red lips curved into a slight smile and eyebrows raised in a friendly manner.

But she was good at maintaining outward appearances—her job required it, after all. Beneath, she was livid, because she was most certain she'd been lied to.

She walked into the secretary's office with this same cheery expression on her face, and the secretary looked up from her computer, surprised to see Meiling there without an appointment. After a moment, though, a sincere smile crossed the secretary's face. "Miss Meiling, what a pleasure to see you!"

Meiling smiled back at the secretary, who'd always been one of the few genuine people she knew in this business. "Hi, Naoko. I know I don't have an appointment, but does Eriol have time to see me right now? I'm sorry about the inconvenience—I wasn't expecting to make this visit, myself."

"Oh, of course." Naoko pressed a button on an intercom speaker on her desk. "Mr. Hiiragizawa, Miss Meiling Li is here to see you—do you have time?"

There was a pause, and then Eriol's voice came through. "Sure. Send her in."

"Thanks, Naoko," Meiling said, truly grateful, and she headed inside.

The smile on Meiling's face turned into a snarl as she shut Eriol's door and made her way towards him, slamming her hands down on his desk.

Eriol scooted back a bit in his seat, adjusted his glasses, and looked back at Meiling. He knew exactly what this was about, but he thought it much wiser to feign innocence. "Meiling, what a surprise."

"Don't play games with me, Eriol. Where was Syaoran last night?" she growled, eyes aglow.

"What do you mean?" Eriol folded his hands and placed them behind his head so that she wouldn't see him fidgeting.

"You were 'too busy' to meet with us yesterday because you had to speak with the board of directors? I _saw_ you at the time we were supposed to be meeting wining and dining some girl! Board of directors, my ass!"

Eriol sighed. It was true—he'd decided to take the free time that Syaoran had given him and take his somewhat-girlfriend, a Parisian jewelry company heiress named Natalie who was working for the year in the Japanese branch, to dinner. They'd been seeing each other for six months, and while Eriol was quite enamored with her beauty and charm—and his father certainly approved of the match—he'd reluctantly discovered in recent weeks that beneath the bravado of her name and societal reputation, he found her boring and preoccupied with things that mattered little to him. The date had been an attempt to rekindle the intense desire he'd felt for her initially, but it had failed. She had convinced him to stay the night—and in the morning, he felt that he couldn't have left any more quickly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, banishing the memories for the moment while he dealt with Meiling.

"So you've taken to stalking me, have you?"

"I'm serious about this. Syaoran put you up to it, didn't he?" Meiling said, crossing her arms. "God, he's really made a habit of disappearing on me lately."

Eriol shook his head. "Meiling, this is none of my business, and I refuse to take part in it. Have you even bothered to ask Syaoran?"

"That bastard knows I'm onto him. He hasn't answered my phone calls at all today."

"Well, there's nothing I can do about that."

"_Eriol._"

"Meiling."

"Come on! I know you know."

Eriol sighed. "Why is it so important to you? If I was fine with not having the meeting and he was fine with it and we managed to reschedule it to a reasonable time, what's the problem?"

"Well..." Meiling frowned, her brow furrowed as she stared absently at a painting on the wall of the office. "He hasn't been himself lately. Haven't you noticed?"

"His whole life has been a disaster in the last couple of months, of course he hasn't been himself."

"No, I mean in the last couple of weeks. I can't even describe it, but he just seems so distant. Distracted by something, almost." Meiling scoffed. "I almost want to say he's dating someone behind my back or something, but I guess that'd be impossible."

Eriol raised his eyebrows and forced himself to hide a smile. In the circus of his friend's life, perhaps the strangest thing yet was happening to him—perhaps he felt more for this paparazzo than he even realized.

He cleared his throat and straightened his expression. "Are you sure you're not just imagining things? He's seemed perfectly normal to me. As normal as he could be, anyway."

Meiling pursed her lips, and then she sighed and threw her hands up in the air. "Who knows, maybe I _am_ going crazy. Everyone said it would happen someday with my high stress levels—well, that or a heart attack—but maybe I've finally cracked." She grinned at Eriol. "No chance you'll tell me why he canceled that meeting, then?"

"Syaoran didn't cancel anything," Eriol lied smoothly. "I did so that I could take my girlfriend on a date. It's been awhile, and I figured out of all of my clients, you guys would be the least likely to throw a fit about a postponement."

Meiling blushed. "Sorry to let you down there."

"It's all right," Eriol chuckled.

"Well, how did the date go?"

"Well enough, I suppose," he said, turning his eyes to his computer and typing away once more as he spoke.

"Uh oh."

"What?" Eriol said, stopping his typing and shutting his eyes. Hardly anything escaped Meiling; he knew this would be no different. He knew Meiling hadn't taken very well to his girlfriend when he'd introduced them, and she'd never been very secretive about her feelings on the matter when the subject arose. As one of Eriol's best friends, Meiling had been trying to convince him that Natalie was purely interested in his money and status for some time—_"I'm a _woman_, Eriol, and I know a gold-digger when I see one!"_—and even upon realizing it himself, Eriol had not been quick to admit that Meiling was right.

"'_Well enough'_? That's all you've got?"

"Look, Natalie is just difficult to reach sometimes, but when you do—"

"It's difficult to reach her, I think, because there's nothing to reach. She's full of hot air," Meiling said, frowning.

Eriol grimaced. "You know, I still don't buy the whole gold-digger thing, but..." He let out a long exhale. "I think you're right in that there's nothing there. Maybe it's time to pull the plug on this one."

"I _knew_ it!"

"I appreciate your condolences."

Meiling smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I really am—you know I want you to be happy."

Eriol smiled. "I know. Don't worry, this is for the best."

"So, what was the dealbreaker?"

In an atypical gesture, Eriol wrinkled his nose. "She spent the whole of our date last night asking me to judge each individual on the guest list for her store opening in Tokyo. Most boring two hours of my life."

Meiling snorted. "Well, I'll find you someone better."

Eriol laughed. "No, thanks. Knowing you, you'd find someone exactly like you, and I can only imagine how that would go."

Meiling rolled her eyes. "Mature, Eriol." She grinned. "Well, thanks for setting me straight. I've gotta run, but I'll see you next week at the meeting."

Eriol nodded, getting up to see Meiling to the door.

She paused before she stepped out of the room. "And I'm sure you'll find the right girl soon."

"Thanks, Meiling," Eriol said with a wry smile, and he shut the door and collapsed back in his chair.

* * *

Sakura sat in her bed, holding her phone in her lap and staring at it intently. Kero, who lay on the bed beside her, occasionally poked his nose over into her lap to see what exactly was so fascinating about the phone. Upon seeing that he was getting no reaction except an occasional, absentminded head-scratch from his owner, he would morosely place his head back on his paws.

It had been a busy day. Sakura had awoken dazed from the events of the previous evening—she'd wondered to herself if it had all simply been a dream—but having no time to sit and truly ponder it, she'd hurried her way to work before she was late. From there, she had turned in a select few photographs to an awed Yamazaki, to whom she explained that she had caught Syaoran Li sneaking his way to the studio while other paparazzi had been diverted by claims that he was to meet with Hiiragizawa Publications at that time. She'd then spent the rest of her workday writing editorials and captions in between dodging Chiharu's questions of how she'd gotten such great photographs. Despite her success and the guarantee of a great paycheck, Sakura felt that five o'clock couldn't have come more quickly. Even as she did it with Syaoran's permission, she'd felt ill at ease about handing in those photos. She'd never liked lying, as she hated the way it made her feel, and as such, she'd never been good at it.

As soon as work ended, she had rushed to meet Tomoyo, who demanded all the details of the previous day, at a nearby café. Tomoyo had screamed and ended up nearly getting them kicked out before proclaiming that Syaoran Li was totally, absolutely, positively falling for Sakura.

"_Tomoyo, why do you keep saying that? I mean, I understand it's a joke, but you know jokes are only funny if there's at least a hint of truth to them—"_

"_I'm not joking, Sakura! I'm totally serious."_

_Sakura gaped at her friend from across the table, nearly choking on her coffee in the process. Tomoyo looked as solemn as she sounded._

"_I don't—I don't understand," Sakura murmured._

"_It all kind of adds up, don't you think? Sakura, he took you to a skyscraper rooftop at sunset to watch the city lights go on!" She sighed dreamily. "That's one of the most romantic things I've ever heard. Things like that _never_ happen in real life—that sounds like it's straight out of a movie! What kind of guy would do that for you if he didn't like you, at least?"_

"_Okay, well, obviously, he's got to be fond of me if we're friends, but—"_

"_Without a doubt, he wants to be more than your friend."_

"_Tomoyo, stop."_

"_I mean it. I know I haven't seen it in action, but it's the only logical explanation."_

"_There's another logical explanation you're forgetting," Sakura said exasperatedly. "He's a nice person. He does nice things. And we're friends, I guess. Friends do nice things for each other."_

_Tomoyo shook her head. "You might not believe me now," she said, a smile on her face, "and he might not even see it yet. But just you wait."_

Sakura had walked home from the café in a stupor even more potent than the one that had carried her to work that morning, and after eating dinner, showering, and reading all in that same hazy state, she found herself sitting on her bed, contemplating whether she should call Syaoran. She had no particular reason to call him, but she wanted to thank him for giving her the opportunity to take all those pictures. He had really saved her financially in these last few weeks—he deserved her gratitude. But the excuse wasn't enough, if she was being truly honest with herself. She'd practically suffocated him with all her gratitude in the time that they'd seen each other. For the first time since she'd met him, Sakura felt a true desire to call Syaoran just to hear his voice.

She saw his expression on the rooftop, saw the intriguing, strangely beautiful ache in his eyes—eyes that had remained steadily on her—and she shivered.

For all of her denial, Sakura truly couldn't help but wonder. What if Tomoyo was right? Her heart leapt at the thought of it. She shook her head. "There's no way," she muttered to herself. "I don't need to call him."

Kero whined and looked up at her.

"Isn't that right, Kero?" Sakura took the retriever's face in her hands and rubbed behind his ears affectionately. "I'm being silly. I don't need to call him."

But even after she put her phone back on her nightstand and lay back in bed with a book open in front of her, she found her mind wandering to him. She glanced at Kero, who met her eyes and lifted his head. "Don't judge me," she said to him, and then she set down her book, exhaled, and picked up her phone.

Ignoring the nervous gnawing in her stomach—_why was she nervous?_—she scrolled to "Strange Man" in her list of contacts and, before she could convince herself not to, she hit the "call" button.

* * *

"So, I think we're going to start you off with an autograph-signing at that new record store that just opened in Shibuya—that's three weeks and four days from now. From there, I've booked you onto a few variety shows," Meiling said, pointing the tip of her pen at a table of scheduled events printed on a sheet of paper which she and Syaoran were intently studying. They sat at the desk in the study of Meiling's apartment, going over Syaoran's activities for the next few months in brief.

Syaoran shuddered at the memory of the crazed atmosphere of the variety shows he'd had to frequent as a rookie in the music industry. Most participants were delighted to take part in the ridiculous activities and antics that made the shows what they were, but Syaoran's quieter nature had made him reluctant at best. As he'd gotten more and more popular and experienced, he was able to take off without going on those shows anymore; his schedule got busier, and he was able to pursue more desirable activities for promotion. However, since he'd had a break from the industry and a scandal had occurred, he understood the necessity of reaching back out to that audience again.

Meiling leaned her elbows on the desk and caught the look of repressed disgust on Syaoran's face. She sighed. "I know you hate doing those shows, but try to bear with me. It'll only be a couple of weeks, and then we can get you into the talk show circuit where you can retain more of your dignity," she said with a smirk.

Syaoran snorted.

"It's going to be a busy couple of months for you soon," Meiling said, her brow furrowed as she looked at the schedule over and over. "It's more promo than you've had to do since you first started out. Are you up for it?"

Syaoran nodded. "It won't be a problem."

Meiling grinned. "That's what I like to hear! Now, about these shows—"

Syaroan's phone rang just then, cutting Meiling off, and she looked peevishly at him. "I thought I told you to turn that off during these meetings," she snapped.

"Sorry, totally forgot," he muttered, but as he glanced down at the phone to turn it off, he lifted a brow when he saw the name that appeared on the screen: Sakura Kinomoto.

_Well, that's interesting._

"Actually, Meiling, don't kill me, but I think I need to take this one," he said, and before she could protest, he walked out of the study and into the hallway, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He touched "answer" on the screen and held the phone to his ear. He was tremendously curious to see why she had called, but he tried not to let it show. "Hello?" he said, in his most casual voice.

"Hi," he heard, and for no reason at all, he was suddenly amused.

"Hey," he said back, and he waited patiently for her to come up with something to say on her end. Had she called just to talk, he wondered?

"I, uh... Well... Are you busy?"

"Not really," he said, eyeing the door to the study, wherein Meiling was probably seething waiting for him. He grinned slightly and leaned against the hallway wall opposite the door. He didn't know what had driven him to lie, but he felt himself relax just at the thought of conversing with her, and almost like a reflex reaction, he embraced the feeling wholeheartedly. It was as though he'd subconsciously sought out to prolong it.

He heard her exhale into the phone. "Thank you for yesterday. I showed my boss some of the photographs and he looked like he was in heaven. He told me I saved the magazine singlehandedly." She giggled.

Syaoran felt his amusement grow a bit. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Save the magazine singlehandedly."

"Oh! Oh, no," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "He's such a joker, my boss. He exaggerates everything! You'd think he would run a tighter ship, but everyone loves him regardless, so I guess there's that."

"Well, I'm glad I could help you out."

"You really did," she breathed, relief apparent in her voice. "And—I didn't tell you yesterday, but I'd never seen a sunset before, especially not like that. And the lights! Everything, really. I know I thanked you a million times yesterday, but really—thank you."

"Yeah, it's really no problem. I enjoyed it, too," Syaoran said with sincerity. It was, in retrospect, the most he'd enjoyed himself in at least a month. He hesitated, but he spoke again. "Did it help you forget about your troubles?"

"My troubles?"

"I guess it did," he said, and he chuckled.

"Oh! My—right. Yeah, it definitely did. I didn't even think about him for the rest of the night," she said.

"Good."

There was a long pause, and Syaoran suddenly felt awkward. He knew he had no reason to feel that way, as he hadn't been the one to call, but...

"So," Sakura said suddenly, her tone suddenly rushed, "Uh... The reason I'm calling is... Well, you've landed me in a bit of hot water. My boss and everyone in my office thinks I'm some great celebrity photographer now."

Syaoran could see where this was going already. He wondered if he should feel offended or used, but he didn't, for some reason. After all, wasn't he using her, too, in a way? He repressed a smile at the obvious nerves in her voice. "And?"

"And so I... I think I might need some more photographs of you soon?" she said in a small voice.

"Have you ever thought about maybe taking the old-fashioned approach and just stalking me like a normal paparazzo?" he teased, wondering if she'd take the bait.

"Oh! Well—well, I—I mean, it's..."

He grinned as he listened to her struggle for words. "I'm kidding," he said. "I know what happens when you try to act like a normal paparazzo. You just end up with a bloody nose. We don't want that again, do we?"

He heard her gasp. "Oh, you are such a _jerk_!"

"Ouch," he said, but he was full-on smiling now. "Come on, you know I don't mean it."

"I wouldn't be so sure," she huffed, but he could hear no real anger in her voice. "But... I know it's a lot to ask of you," she said quietly, somber again. "I understand if you don't want to do it."

Syaoran tilted his head and stared at the door to the study. He would, as Meiling said, grow very busy soon. He knew that even as soon as he got off the phone and stepped back into the room to get back to business, he would feel the weight of his stardom press down on him again.

From a young age, Syaoran had learned from his mother to seize what opportunities he saw before him. He had always drawn encouragement from that motto. As a child, he believed that he could simply see opportunities in front of him more so than other people could—the same way some claimed to see ghosts, even when others couldn't—and, true or not, it had given him the confidence to go after everything he desired. He had always thought this motto a key factor in his success.

Whatever Sakura did worked wonders for him. It was worth the ridiculous photography sessions, he thought. In fact, in a way, he didn't even mind those so much, as he was a willing participant. In the future, when his life became hectic and much busier again, there was no guarantee he'd be able to stay in contact with her. He realized how quickly he'd become accustomed to her presence and how desperately he clung to it, and although he felt strange and even a little ashamed that he was now relying on a stranger—a _paparazzo_, for heaven's sake—to give him a sense of normalcy and peace in his life, he wasn't going to banish it. Life was giving him an opportunity at sanity with open hands. He was going to take it.

"How about this?" he said, drumming his finger against the wall. He wasn't sure how she'd take it, but he couldn't see _her_ passing up such an opportunity, either. "Let's make this a regular thing."

"A... A _what?_ A regular thing? As in, we meet and you fake candids for me on a regular basis?"

"Exactly."

"Are you crazy?"

"I might be."

"But... But why? No celebrity in his right mind—"

"I know," he said, and he wondered for a moment if he should tell her exactly why he was pursuing this.

_I want to put my privacy, the thing I value most, in serious jeopardy by continuing to pose for these fake candids for you, solely because you make me feel like a normal human being. _

He nearly snorted at how creepy and pathetic that sounded. Best to lie, he thought. "I trust you enough not to muck up my reputation with your photos. It gives me a degree of control over my publicity," he reasoned out loud. That sounded plausible enough, didn't it?

"Oh, well... All right, if you say so," Sakura responded, although her voice still sounded surprised and slightly skeptical. "You're doing me a really big favor here, I feel like I should repay you somehow—"

The study door opened, and Meiling stuck her head out. She took one moment to look over him, lifted an eyebrow, and whispered menacingly, "If you don't get your ass back in here in _one minute_, I'm going to pour my coffee all over your laptop."

Syaoran rolled his eyes. "Calm down, I'll be in in a second," he muttered, covering the mouth of the phone.

Meiling narrowed her eyes at him, but she shut the door.

Syaoran turned his attention back to Sakura, who was still going on about trying to repay him, and he sighed and cut her off.

"No need," he said. _You're repaying me enough as it is. _

"Are you sure? There's gotta be something I can do..."

"If there is, we'll work it out later," Syaoran said, rushed now. Meiling rarely bluffed, and he had a lot of music and photos on that laptop... "Would you want to meet up next Monday, maybe? If you can afford to get out of your work somehow, I'll be leaving Hiiragizawa Publications around three that afternoon. My schedule's clear for a couple of hours after that, so you can get your pictures and then meet me around that same back entrance I showed you yesterday. I should be driving there alone, so I can drop you off wherever you need to go."

"Yeah, but what about the other paparazzi?"

"We're sending a decoy out an hour early."

"I can't believe people fall for that nonsense," Sakura muttered.

"Whatever, you almost fell for it, too," Syaoran teased, and then he glanced anxiously at the study door. "Okay, I have to go, but I'll see you next week. Text me when you're certain you can meet me then."

"Oh—all right," she said, her voice sounding surprised at the abrupt hurriedness of it all. "Well... Thank you," she said, suddenly earnest.

"Yeah, it's no problem. And," he said before he could stop himself, "thanks for calling me."

He hung up instantly, before she could form any kind of response, and he immediately started berating himself. "'_Thanks for calling me_'? What the hell, she probably thinks I'm a psycho," he muttered to himself before opening the door to the study and walking back in. He looked at his laptop and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was dry and intact.

"So who exactly was so important that they kept you out there for—" Meiling paused to look at her watch. "—fifteen minutes?"

"An old friend from school," Syaoran said, surprised at how quickly the lie came out. He didn't like lying to Meiling, but he couldn't imagine how angry she'd be if she found out about this. "We hadn't spoken in a long time, and we agreed to meet for lunch.

"Hm," Meiling responded simply, watching him for a moment, and then she shrugged and turned back to the schedule as Syaoran sat down beside her. "Okay, so, like I was saying before, these two particular shows are the ones where you need to be particularly interactive with the other guests..."

* * *

For the second time that evening, Sakura found herself staring at her phone in her lap. This time, it was more out of shock than contemplation. Kero watched her once more, and she looked at him.

"I know I probably look crazy, Kero," she said to him in a solemn voice, "but I'm pretty sure the man I just spoke to on the phone is crazier."

Kero wagged his tail once.

"I'm going to assume that means that you agree with me," she said.

With a sigh, she put the phone back on her nightstand. Several things about that conversation had completely thrown her off, some of them more obvious than others.

For one, their conversation had flown so naturally that Sakura wasn't sure if she could continue to act like Syaoran was merely a familiar stranger. Sakura had been careful to maintain a certain distance, undoubtedly even more so because he was a celebrity and thereby almost a different entity to her, but now, she couldn't deny that some sort of pleasant, natural chemistry existed between them.

For another, she was absolutely baffled at his request to make their meetings regular. She had not seen that coming at all. While Syaoran seemed to enjoy the time he spent with her, she had believed that she was forcing herself upon him and acting more as a burden to him than anything else. Still, his reasoning was fairly sound—now more than ever, he needed to control his image. So perhaps this was a mutually beneficial relationship after all.

_Oh, who am I kidding?_

Clearly, Sakura was getting much more out of this than he was—and he refused any kind of compensation for it, saying vaguely that they would discuss it later, if they ever even got around to it. What was he up to?

And even if it did become a regular thing, she had no idea how it would work. She could only get candids of him at his studio or Hiiragizawa Publications or even the park beside the Royal Roast Café so many times while avoiding other paparazzi. Eventually, their plans would have to become more and more elaborate. The thought of it made her head spin.

And finally, she thought, the strangest thing, the thing that lingered most in her mind—_"Thanks for calling me._"

Sakura closed her eyes and saw his watching her on that rooftop once more. What was happening here? It frustrated her that she had no answers.

She sighed and looked at Kero. "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Kero looked up at her without lifting his head.

She smiled at him. "Good night, Kero," she said, and she scratched his head once more before turning out the light and lying back in her pillows.

* * *

Meiling sat at her desk, responding to various emails on her laptop and sipping occasionally at her mug of coffee. She glanced at the clock, groaning when she saw that it was already midnight. It would be a long night; she needed to send these messages before the morning.

She leaned back in her chair and rested her eyes for a moment. Syaoran had left half an hour earlier, and she could not focus.

Ever since that phone call, he had seemed extremely distracted. He was frustratingly distant in his responses, not arguing when Meiling expected him to, merely nodding along and mumbling a "yeah, that's fine" every so often. She wished she could go through his phone and see who he'd been speaking to—she highly doubted that it was some mere friend from school. Despite all the craziness in his life, Syaoran had always been a very focused person, almost to the point where it was a talent. No mere friend could cause that kind of distraction in him. And, when she had peeked out of the door to threaten him into getting off the phone, it had taken all her will not to gape at him; he'd been positively beaming, a grin stretched from one side of his face to the other. Whomever he had been speaking to on the phone had made him smile more than he had since he and Mizuki had ended their relationship.

Between his off behavior in the last few weeks, the postponed meeting with Hiiragizawa Publications, and what had occurred tonight, Meiling was rapidly becoming suspicious that something was going on behind her back. Syaoran didn't have to tell her everything that went on in his personal life, of course, but this distant, far-off behavior had the potential to interfere with his professional life. This would be the worst possible time for that to happen. And, aside from that, as much as she hated to admit it—even to herself—her feelings were a bit hurt. She wasn't just his agent, but also his cousin and a close friend. Why did he feel the need to keep a secret from her? Even Eriol seemed to be in on it, as his behavior earlier in the day had been far too evasive.

Meiling sighed. If this kept up, she decided, she would have to figure out what was going on. And she had no doubt that she could; when she set her mind to something, Meiling rarely failed.

* * *

Syaoran turned over onto his stomach as he lay in bed, opening one eye to look at the clock. It was already three in the morning, and he still could not sleep.

He was intrigued at what the establishment of regular meetings between himself and Sakura would bring. He was pathetically excited at the thought of feeling normal again, not just occasionally but _on a regular basis. _That feeling—like he could control where his life was going, like the whole world wasn't watching him anymore, like he didn't have to watch his back with every breath he took, or perhaps that, even if none of that were true, that it didn't even matter—was priceless and so incredibly difficult to obtain. It was as though he'd struck gold by establishing this relationship.

But that wasn't what bothered him. He didn't mind how he felt, no matter how pathetic it seemed. It was only human, he reasoned.

No, what bothered him—what truly kept him up all these hours, even as he lay with his eyes shut, was the inexplicable, gnawing excitement he felt at the thought of seeing Sakura Kinomoto on Monday afternoon.

* * *

Well, what do you think? And so begins the (arduously slow) process of falling on other side, muahaha. Next chapter, Sakura and Syaoran meet, Meiling finds out something very surprising, someone makes the first step towards coming back into one of our main character's lives, and lots of other things! Be sure to tune in then. I posted/wrote the last bit in a bit of a rush, so let me know if you find any errors, minor or glaring! Pleeeaaase leave a review on your way out, I'd love you forever! :) Happy holidays!

Love,

boreum dal


	10. impasse

**radio star**

x. impasse

Paparazzi flooded the sidewalk in front of the Hiiragizawa Publications building, blocking civilian traffic and causing passersby to crane their heads over the crowd in an attempt to see what the commotion was about. The revolving doors spun, and a roar rose among the crowd as a figure that appeared to be Syaoran Li, flanked by security and staff, made his way out of the building, through the crowds and towards a nearby parking deck. Flashbulbs went off in a hundred different directions, people were jostled everywhere, and the great noise of the frenzy overtook even the noise of the traffic.

It was sheer madness, and although she had seen it several times already, Sakura could not tear her eyes from the scene. She sat on a bench across the street, her own camera in a bag at her side, and waited patiently for the crowd to dissipate per Syaoran's instructions.

_The decoy will be leaving through the front of the building at three sharp_, his text had read. _I'll leave about an hour or so after from the back. You can get photos of me then. I should be alone. Meet me after I get in my car._

_Do you want to hang out afterward?_ Sakura had said back, half out of curiosity and half out of hope. She tried to ignore the latter half.

_Sure, why not?_ had come the reply. _We can go get lunch._

_You're always thinking about food_, she couldn't help but text back, and then she'd hastily texted a silly emoticon right after to show that she was just teasing.

_What are you implying...?_ Syaoran had said back, and Sakura had giggled and simply not responded, prompting him to barrage her with a series of silly texts—_"Are you calling me fat?" "Take it back!" "My diet is my own business and not yours!"_—trying to guilt her for broaching a "sensitive subject" so carelessly.

After texting each other their plans to coordinate a meeting, Sakura had not had much difficulty in getting out of work. Yamazaki was unsurprisingly lax about it, especially given the stellar pictures Sakura had been turning in from taking photos even when she wasn't working.

Sakura's mind still reeled at the idea of doing this on a regular basis. It was one thing to stage a few shoots to get by, but... She stared at the crowd. Somehow, this felt utterly dishonest. Sure, she had Syaoran's permission, but didn't this mean she was building an entire career off of deceiving her boss? She tried to imagine Yamazaki's reaction if he found out about this deal. She wondered if he'd be pleased, shocked, or angry. She couldn't picture what he looked like when he was angry—it was an emotion that clashed with his impossibly upbeat personality.

She sighed. This was all becoming very complicated. She trusted Syaoran, but she was dabbling in activities that violated many basic journalistic ethics, something that went against her own moral code and all she'd ever learned in her journalism courses and experience. And although she trusted him, there was always a chance he could sue her for libel. She would have no way to prove that she was doing all of this with his approval, some of it even at his suggestion.

But beyond the legalities and technicalities, which only occupied a miniscule part of her thoughts at the moment (something for which she hated herself), all she could think was that her life had become more and more ridiculous, in increasing and more frequent increments, since she had first laid her eyes on that headshot of Syaoran Li.

To say the least, thinking about it stressed her out. It wasn't the ideal situation—although Sakura was sure that most paparazzi would disagree—but what could she do? She was already involved. And then there were her feelings on the matter—on Syaoran...

She'd only met him a handful of times. He seemed straightforward enough and she usually thought herself good at reading people, but Syaoran was one she could not figure out. He was obviously a good guy. She was fairly certain they were friends. But what did he want from her—and why did he trust her so much? It was a mystery to her, and a very frustrating one, at that.

After some time passed, Sakura checked her watch and headed inconspicuously across the street towards the back of the Hiiragizawa Publications building and perched behind a company van across the parking lot, feeling ridiculous in the process of doing so. At four, several people Sakura didn't recognize walked out of the back door, chatting animatedly before dispersing to their respective cars. Ten minutes after those cars left the lot, Sakura watched Syaoran step out of the building, alone as he said he'd be. She raised her camera and began to snap photos, and she amusedly wondered if he was walking more slowly than usual to his car for her benefit. As soon as he disappeared into his car, Sakura stuffed her camera back in her bag and, after a furtive glance around the empty lot, she ran over to his car as well.

* * *

"_What_?" Sakura grumbled, shutting the passenger side door as Syaoran shot her an amused grin.

"Are you practicing for some sort of spy movie? You might as well have done a couple of barrel rolls under the cars while you were at it."

"I was trying to be inconspicuous!" she said defensively, her face turning red from embarrassment. Maybe her duck-and-run strategy had been a bit too much.

"Well, good job," Syaoran chuckled, and he started the engine. "Where to? We'll have to get whatever we're going to eat to go and take it to the studio, if you don't mind."

Sakura frowned. "Didn't you want to see the pictures?"

"The what?"

"The pictures. That's why you wanted me to meet you, right? So you could see the pictures I took just now and make sure I didn't... I don't know, take any bad ones or whatever."

"Oh, right," Syaoran said hurriedly, and he took the camera from Sakura's waiting hands. He shuffled through the pictures on the screen, grimacing inwardly at how low he'd fallen. He'd never even condoned paparazzi photos, and now he was giving his consent and even helping to pick out which ones would be published.

But this was different, because when it came down to it—when he was really being honest with himself—he couldn't have cared less about the pictures.

Still, he had to smile at some of them He felt about as ridiculous as Sakura had looked on her stealth mission to his car. "Man, I really hate this part of the job."

"What, taking pictures?" Sakura leaned over and looked at the photos with him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do, too."

Syaoran handed the camera back to Sakura with a nod. "I don't see anything bad there."

"How could you, when you're essentially controlling the exact situation where I'm photographing you?"

Syaoran laughed. "I guess so. You make me sound like a dictator."

"Ah, but you're not," Sakura grinned. "You're a celebrity—more power than a dictator, even."

Syaoran smiled at that and shifted gears before making his way out of the parking lot.

* * *

Meiling's hands tightened around the steering wheel of her car as she watched the exchange between Syaoran and the girl with a camera who had gotten in his car. She couldn't quite believe her eyes as she saw them speak, and then, after a few moments, watched Syaoran drive off.

_What the hell is he doing?_ she thought incredulously.

Meiling had never seen that girl before in her life—and, by the looks of it, she was a shady character. She'd appeared out of nowhere behind some van in the parking lot, and—in the process of trying not to get caught, Meiling assumed—she'd looked extremely suspicious in approaching Syaoran's car. And yet, Syaoran had seemed to have no problem with it at all, letting her in immediately and acting as though she were a familiar presence. Meiling was almost certain that in the time he'd spent undocumented without anyone else, he must have been seeing that girl. The thought briefly crossed her mind that, perhaps with the camera, the girl was some sort of reporter, or even a paparazzo—but there was no way, given Syaoran's absolute value of privacy.

Aside from the shock and outrage she felt, there was that twinge of surprise again—the same one she'd felt when she'd caught him on the phone during their meeting a few nights prior. For not only were they merely speaking and exchanging words, but, from Meiling's observations, they were laughing and joking as well. Meiling hadn't seen Syaoran smile so much in such a short timespan in a very long time.

Pursing her lips, she turned the ignition on in her car and resisted the urge to follow them. Curious as she was, she considered herself Syaoran's friend first, and she decided that for the time being, she would wait—albeit not with much patience—to see how this would unfold.

* * *

"So is this place your second home or what? I feel like you're always here." Sakura wandered into the now-familiar studio lounge, plopping herself down on a couch and watching Syaoran do the same on the couch opposite her.

"Pretty much," he responded, rifling through the paper bag he'd just set down to pull out a burger wrapped in paper, which he handed to Sakura.

After some bickering over what they should eat, he had succumbed to her idea of driving through a local gourmet burger joint, conceding that it sounded too good to resist.

As he'd said, they had driven immediately to the studio afterwards, and just like the previous times Sakura had been there, Syaoran was the only soul there. He worked many odd hours on his own time, he'd explained, as opposed to the producers, who had set times to come in and work.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, although Sakura couldn't help but steal glances at him every once in awhile. While she continued to wonder how she had chanced upon such a bizarre situation, she was beginning to embrace the idea of their friendship, and the novelty of his celebrity was wearing off—a good thing, she thought. It was nice to see him more as a person and less as an untouchable being who kept her around for some kind of morbid amusement—a feeling that, while not dominant, had lingered in the back of her mind since she'd first begun to see him.

And yet, even with all the time she was starting to spend around him, she couldn't solve the mystery. Why was he so open to her, and why _did_ he present himself to her as such a familiar being? While it was reasonable to want to be seen that way, she simply could not figure out why he had chosen her, out of everyone in his massive reach, to pull into his private world.

"Look, I know I'm good-looking and all, but I don't want you to forget to eat and waste away because you've been busy staring at me," Syaoran said, his voice suddenly snapping her out of her thoughts.

Sakura raised her eyebrows in surprise and looked down at her still-wrapped burger, then back over to Syaoran, who had finished his own and was now watching her with a clear look of smug amusement on his face. She hadn't even realized that she'd been looking at him the entire time she'd been thinking.

Blushing furiously and trying to swallow her horror, she stammered out, "You—well, you're not _that _good-looking! I was daydreaming!"

"Ouch," Syaoran said, but he bit back laughter.

"I _was_!"

"Daydreaming about me, right?"

"You are _so_ self-absorbed," Sakura spat, but her embarrassment wouldn't allow her to meet his eyes.

Syaoran finally broke into a grin, amused at having caught her watching him but even more amused at making her so flustered. "I'm just teasing you," he said. "But really, eat. You told me you hadn't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry anymore," she muttered, putting the burger down on the coffee table and sliding it over to him as if to make her point. Of course, at that moment, her stomach chose to growl loudly, and although she hadn't thought it possible, she turned even redder.

"Aw, come on. I didn't mean to embarrass you, you know," Syaoran said, and he pushed the burger back towards her. He was trying even harder not to laugh now. For some reason, he found great amusement in provoking her, possibly because her reactions were so predictably extreme.

Sakura glowered at him for a moment, but she picked up the food and grudgingly began to eat. She tried not to let it show on her face how hungry she'd actually been.

Syaoran leaned back and held his wrist in the air, looking at his watch. "Are you free for the rest of the day, then?"

"I am," she said, defenses lowering a little when she saw he was pursuing normal conversation again. "Are you?"

"Nah. I have to go to some photo shoot later. A real one," he added, smirking.

Sakura scoffed, tired of getting worked up at his teasing. "My candid shoots are better."

She expected him to retaliate, but to her surprise, he gave a resigned shrug. "Can't say I'd argue with that. I might actually prefer those," he muttered.

Sakura raised her eyebrows at that, but she saw his expression grow slightly darker and decided not to pursue it. "Why is it such a late shoot? Won't it be dark?" she asked instead.

"Yeah, that's the idea. Some hilltop at night with an emphasis on the stars in the background and such."

"That sounds kind of nice," she said, smiling.

Syaoran looked over at her, and his face seemed to soften a bit. "Yeah... Maybe it will be."

Sakura was beaming now, happy that she had been able to get rid of that shadow on his face—it had reminded her all too much of his expression on the rooftop the other night, the one she'd found exquisite and unreadable and terribly sad, all at once. She ate the rest of her burger contentedly.

It was Syaoran's turn to watch her in silence now, although he was a bit better about being covert, and he found himself realizing how little he really knew about her. He frowned. That didn't seem right, given how much time they'd been spending together lately.

"Say, Sakura—what's your favorite color?"

"Eh?" Sakura looked up from her food, confused at the sudden question.

"I mean, I just realized I don't really know anything about you at all. You know, aside from your profession and why you chose it, and—well, you must know a lot more about me, given that I'm a cele—"

"Actually, I don't know anything about you, really, either," Sakura said, frowning to herself.

Syaoran nearly fell over at the bluntness of her statement. "You really know how to ground my ego," he muttered.

"Oh," Sakura said in surprise, and then she laughed. "You really are so full of yourself."

"I am not! I'm just used to strangers 'knowing' all of these things about me."

"Does it bother you that I don't?" The thought had never occurred to Sakura before.

"Well..." Syaoran paused to think. "You know, no, not really. It's kind of refreshing."

"I'm glad," Sakura said, smiling. "Besides, this way, it's like a fresh start—now I can just come to know you as I please."

Syaoran's eyebrows shot up, caught off guard and unsure of how to respond to that. Something pleasant bubbled up inside of him, and to his surprise, he felt a smile form on his lips as well. "Well... I've got some time before I need to take you home. Anything you wanna do?"

"I guess anything I suggest needs to involve not going out in public, huh?"

Syaoran grimaced, but he nodded. "That's the general idea."

"Well..." Sakura thought back to the other night, when Tomoyo had put _Nightlight _in the DVD player and she'd finally seen and heard Syaoran sing through the television screen. "Could you play me a song?"

Syaoran was surprised yet again—he would've expected her to ask him anything else, but he supposed it made sense if she really knew nothing about him as a celebrity. He thought carefully about a song to play her, and for some reason, none of the songs he'd written when he had been in love with Mizuki seemed appropriate. It didn't seem right—perhaps, he thought, because they seemed like songs too private to show someone who was such a stranger. He knew that made no sense, though, since he'd shown these songs to a public who had known every detail about his life. And yet, she looked so eager to hear—somehow more attentive than his biggest fan—that he felt he couldn't let her down. He sighed.

"One second," he said, and he got up and picked a guitar from a row of them sitting to the side of the room beneath the windowsill.

At a loss for an appropriate song choice, he shrugged and decided to play "Stay," the song he'd recorded only a few days prior with Matsura. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that pervaded his mind as he sat down and began to strum the guitar. As he sang the all too familiar words, he hit every note, played every chord correctly, and didn't fumble over any of the lyrics. And yet, as he drew the song to a close, he felt unfulfilled. He hadn't met Sakura's eyes even once through the entirety of the song. _This must have been what Matsura was going on and on about that day_, he thought.

"I liked it," Sakura said, nodding, but even she seemed unenthused for how excited she'd seemed to hear him play.

Syaoran raised an eyebrow. "That's it? You're killing me today."

Sakura laughed. "Did I wound your ego again?"

Syaoran shrugged, trying not to sound sour. "I don't expect you to fall over in impassioned tears or anything," he said, eliciting a giggle from Sakura. "But it's just an underwhelming reaction if it's your first time hearing me sing."

"Ah. Well, I have a confession... It wasn't my first." Sakura blushed and bit her lip. "I watched one of your movies the other day—_Nightlight_—and that was the first time I got to hear your voice."

"Ah, jeez. You watched that?" He scratched his head, somewhat embarrassed. It wasn't that he was ashamed of _Nightlight_—it had been critically acclaimed and he'd been honored to work with the actors of that film, most of them veterans in the industry—but he cringed at his performance in it because, in hindsight, his perfectionism made him feel that he could have done a better job.

Sakura nodded. "I'd never seen any of your films, and my best friend Tomoyo happens to be a big fan of yours, so she brought it over to my house one night so we could watch it." She pursed her lips. "Anyway, something about your performance in that film is so different from what you just sang to me... It's not that what you just played was bad—I just feel like half of your heart wasn't in it," she said slowly, making these realizations as she spoke. "You had such a passion in _Nightlight_... It was really captivating. I found myself wanting you to be in every scene," she admitted.

Syaoran let out a short exhale and felt a smile forming on his face in spite of himself.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" Sakura said, frowning.

"No, not at all. It's just... That was very intuitive of you." He thought for a moment. "I think I can fix that. Would you mind hearing another song?"

"Of course not!"

He looked warily at her as he prepared to play another song. "This is called 'Diver.' I haven't finished it yet, so... Don't be quick to judge, okay?"

It was against his personal policy to show anyone besides Meiling, Matsura, and his producer any song he hadn't finished, but for some reason, he felt like it would be okay to show her. Somehow, it was preferable to showing her any song he'd released to the public, because for some reason, he felt like she'd understand the words, which were among his vaguer lyrics, the best.

"_The horizon drifts away_

_with the sky too blue to see tomorrow._

_These still people struggle to breathe—_

_When did I become like them?_

"_I should spill out this sadness._

_Wouldn't it be better if I only looked ahead?_

_Well, I guess I can't take the lead—_

_but even when I make everyone my enemy,_

_I'll still feel this light._

_If I can get this far, then..."_

Syaoran looked up briefly at Sakura as he fervently built his way up to the chorus, and when he caught the fascinated look on her face, he felt a familiar high rush through his veins. This was it. There was something thrilling about playing the perfect song for the right audience, the person or people who would instantly feel as strong a connection with the song as he himself did. He shut his eyes and belted out the chorus, his brow furrowed in emotion and concentration.

"_I want to breathe, it's painful here._

_When I look up at the dark sky,_

_I'm suffering, a floating diver. _

_I want to know that I'm alive..._

_So let's take one more breath,_

_let's head down to the ocean one more time."_

Syaoran ended the song there, not having written any more, and he let out a long breath of air. "Well? Better?" he said, setting the guitar down.

Sakura's eyes were wide, and a smile lit up her face. "Yes! Oh my God, Syaoran, that was _amazing_!"

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't have minded hearing that the first time around," he grumbled, but he felt his lips pull into a slight grin. "Thanks."

"No, I mean—it's not even like the song you played before was bad! It was sweet and pretty and you sang it well. But this..." Sakura shook her head. "There was just so much _feeling _in that song. It was thrilling to watch you play!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It's not done or anything, but I like it a lot better than the single that my record label has chosen so far—the one I sang to you before," Syaoran said, recalling once more how difficult it had been for him to sing "Stay" in the studio and grimacing at the idea of having to sing it over and over for future promotions. Nothing sounded less appealing to him.

"Well, why don't you just ask to sing this one instead?" Sakura asked, frowning. There it was again, that shadow on his face.

Syaoran scoffed. "If only it were that simple."

"But why isn't it? The other song was pretty, but this one is so much more real." She hesitated, as she had never referred to his scandal, even indirectly, to him before, but she continued. "This one is a lot more applicable to your life at present, don't you think? That's why you wrote it, right? And your fans would want something true from you more than just another love song."

For once, Syaoran was quiet at that, and he sat in stone-faced silence for a few moments; Sakura bit her lip, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing.

Finally, after another long few seconds, he looked at her, and to her surprise, he broke into a grin and chuckled. "I thought you weren't supposed to be pop-savvy."

"I—I mean, I guess I'm not," Sakura said, caught off-guard at his laughter. "But it's only common sense!"

He smiled at her earnestness and leaned back in his seat, looking up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. "Maybe I'll talk to Matsura about changing the single."

"Matsura?"

"The CEO of my record label." Syaoran thought for a moment, and then added, "Kind of like my father."

Sakura smiled. "So he'll listen to you, then?"

"Actually, it's more like our relationship will make it more difficult to convince him," Syaoran said, shaking his head and laughing at the thought. "But I'll try. You're right. I should share a real song, both for my fans and for myself."

"Right!" Sakura said, nodding enthusiastically.

Syaoran leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and looked at Sakura for a long moment, his expression not entirely readable.

Sakura felt the smile fade off of her face as she watched him watch her with uncharacteristically soft eyes, unable to look away in spite of the long silence between them and the nerves it stirred in the pit of her stomach. In moments like this, it almost felt as though...

She shut her eyes and reopened them, trying to stave off this strange feeling. "Wh-what? Is there something on my face?" she murmured finally, resisting the urge to touch her face and choosing instead to push a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Syaoran shook his head. The grin had faded off of his lips as well, and now he wore a look of solemn intensity that simultaneously made Sakura want to reach out to him and recoil from him. "You just surprise me a lot, that's all."

Sakura frowned. "Is... Is that bad?"

"No," he said softly, looking at her once more. "Not when it comes to you."

She inhaled sharply, blinking a few times in surprise. She was floored, unable to form a response to him—and even if she could have, she was fairly certain that her voice would have shaken embarrassingly, because suddenly, she could feel her heart beating as though she had just run a marathon.

"Well," Syaoran finally said, his voice still quieter than normal and his eyes still trained on her, "I think it's time I took you home."

"Right," Sakura murmured back. She looked down at her watch, needing any kind of excuse to break his gaze. "Right, I should go."

"Sorry," he muttered, standing up and running a hand through his hair, suddenly agitated. "I just—that damn photo shoot, and—"

"No, no. It's really okay," Sakura said, shaking her head. "I, uh... I've got some business to take care of at home, anyway."

They looked at each other for a moment longer, both unsure as to what was happening between them, until Sakura found that she couldn't handle it and pulled her phone out of her pocket to check it. When she looked back up, she saw Syaoran grabbing his keys, and wordlessly, she followed him out the door.

They spent the entire car ride to her apartment in silence.

* * *

"Well, thanks for today," Sakura said as they pulled into the parking lot of her apartment, her hand itching to open the door even before the car rolled to a stop. She planned on going straight to her bedroom and hiding under her covers to process all of this as soon as she got inside her building.

"Anytime," Syaoran said, and Sakura made the mistake of looking at him once more—while the electricity between them in the studio had cooled somewhat, seeing his eyes fixed on her, glowing in the fading sunlight, rendered her frustratingly speechless.

"Well, uh..." Sakura swallowed, trying not to sound like an idiot. "I guess till next time?"

Syaoran nodded. "Yeah. I'll text you later, maybe tonight or tomorrow?"

"Sounds good." Sakura turned to get out of the car, and then she turned around briefly to meet his eyes one more time. "Good night, Syaoran."

With that, Sakura hurried out of the car and took the steps two at a time up to her apartment.

* * *

Syaoran let out a long sigh. He clutched the steering wheel a bit more tightly with one hand and let his other hang out the window as he drove his way to the field where the photo shoot was to take place.

These evenings spent with Sakura were starting to blend into each other, as all of them seemed to end with both of them having far too much to say and thus saying nothing at all.

Clueless as he could be, Syaoran was not stupid. There was something happening between them, more than just his need to feel normal with someone and her need to fulfill her paparazzo duties. Certainly, they had developed an interesting friendship, but beyond that, what was it?

He thought back to the moments where he'd played for her this afternoon, the taken look on her face and how enthusiastically she'd encouraged him to pursue a single that he actually _wanted_ to promote, her lack of knowledge about the way the industry worked making her all the more earnest. She seemed to genuinely have his own happiness in mind, and in his whole career, he'd met very few people like that.

And then, strangely enough, he kept thinking about Mizuki, but in a context that he could not recognize.

As he thought about the similarities and differences between the two women, he felt a warning go off in his head.

Whatever this nameless thing going on between Sakura and himself was, it was too much, too soon... And yet, Syaoran felt that he had no control over it.

* * *

"Syaoran! Jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack, I thought you weren't going to show! Do you realize you're half an hour late?" Meiling hissed as Syaoran stepped into the makeup tent and sat down in a chair, where two makeup artists immediately went to work.

"Sorry," he muttered tiredly.

Meiling frowned. "You okay?"

Syaoran closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, it's just been a long day."

Meiling crossed her arms and raised a brow. "Was it that girl you were with today?"

Syaoran's eyes shot open and he turned his face abruptly towards Meiling, causing one of the makeup artists to accidentally streak concealer across his face. "What did you just say?"

"I saw that girl get in your car today, Syaoran—not a word of this to anyone, or I'll make sure neither of you ever have a job for the rest of your lives," Meiling added menacingly to both of the makeup artists, who nodded fervently and continued their work. She turned back to Syaoran. "Who was she?"

Syaoran's eyes narrowed. "It's none of your business."

Meiling's eyes widened in both fury and exasperation as she glared at him and then around the room, as if the world was watching and felt equally exasperated with him. "I'm asking as your _friend_, Syaoran, not your damn agent! Since when have you kept things like that from me?"

Syaoran sighed. "Look, it's kind of a complicated situation—"

He paused as a notifier went off on his phone, and he breathed a sigh of relief at a chance to pause the conversation. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and tapped the flashing email sign.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Meiling said, nearly shouting now. "This is the second time you've interrupted me because of your damn phone going off, and—Syaoran?" Meiling watched as Syaoran's eyes turned to saucers and his jaw suddenly clenched. His hand shook ever so slightly, and he was clutching the phone as if he was trying to crush it. "Hey, Syaoran! What is it?"

Syaoran stared in near-disbelief as he saw the subject and sender of the email that had just come into his inbox:

_Long time no talk! I miss you_ — Mizuki Akizawa

* * *

Whew! That's it for this chapter. The good news is, I've had part of the next chapter planned out for a very long time, so hopefully, I can churn the rest of it out soon!

The lyrics I used in this chapter were a very liberally translated version of a Japanese pop-rock song, "Diver" by Nico Touches the Walls. They're very vague and open to interpretation, but I believe it's supposed to be that way. It's the eighth opening to Naruto Shippuden, if any of you watch it, and definitely one of my favorite songs! Try looking it up and listening to it. The sound of it and the lyrics are very much something I'd imagine Syaoran to sing in the more rock extremes of his career.

Anyway, Syaoran and Sakura are really falling, eh? But it seems Mizuki is about to inch her way back in... And Meiling is totally onto him! So what happens now? I'm cackling evilly as I type this, in case any of you are curious. Also, once again, if you'd like more updates and whatnot, check out my fic tumblr! Link is on my profile, or my username is boreum-dal. Okay, until next time! Please leave a review, and thank you for reading!

Love,

boreum dal


	11. a real person

**radio star**

xi. a real person

"Syaoran? Hey, what's the matter?" Meiling watched as her cousin sat frozen, almost as though someone had paused him into place. She turned to the makeup artists, who were still working and turning a blind eye and deaf ear to what was happening. "Do you think you could leave us for a moment? I'll call you back in in a moment."

The makeup artists looked at each other quizzically, but they nodded wordlessly and left the tent.

"She messaged me," Syaoran finally muttered, his voice all but a low growl.

Meiling's brow furrowed. "Who? Not—"

"Yeah. Her."

"Wow," Meiling breathed. "After all this time? It's been over three months since you've even spoken!"

"Yeah."

"A text?"

"No, an email. I can't decide if I should open it," Syaoran said, his grip on his phone slackening as he felt his shoulders slump.

"Syaoran..."

"It shouldn't matter anymore," he said quietly, "should it?"

Meiling felt the simultaneous stirrings of sadness for her cousin and fury at his ex-girlfriend. It was difficult to watch him act so vulnerable and unsure of himself. She found herself wrestling with whether she should act as his agent or his friend first, and with a sigh, she decided she needed to do both.

Gently, she took the phone out of his hand. "I know you like to think otherwise, but you're only human, Syaoran. Of course it matters to you. That's okay. But, as much as I hate to play this card, you've got a job to do—and no matter what the contents of this email are, you won't be able to focus on this shoot unless you save it for after. I'll hang on to this, all right?"

Syaoran glanced up at her, and seeing the determination in her eyes, he found his own as well. He squared his shoulders and nodded. "Right. Let's get this over with."

* * *

Syaoran's professionalism never failed to impress Meiling, no matter how many times she'd seen it in action. Had she walked on to the set of the photo shoot late and not witnessed his reaction to Mizuki's email, she would never have known that there was a problem.

She watched as he expertly played off of the director's instructions, and on the screen of the computer that had been hooked up to the camera, she could tell that, much like the photos from his last shoot, these would turn out quite nicely. For someone who had landed himself in PR hell in the last half year, Meiling thought, he sure made it easy for her to help him get out of there.

"And that's a wrap!" the director shouted, a wide grin on his face. "Wonderful job, Syaoran!"

"Thank you, sir," Syaoran said with a bow of his head, and he proceeded to shake hands with the crew.

Meiling watched some of the art crew and the makeup team come up to him for autographs, all of which he signed with a smile on his face, and she felt a warm sense of admiration for her cousin in the pit of her chest. She always wanted to protect him—from paparazzi, from people who would take advantage of him, from anyone who would hurt him at all—but in instances like these, it was easy to see just how strong he actually was.

And yet, that made her want to protect him even more.

* * *

Sakura rolled over in her bed, frowning as she shut her eyes and let her thoughts wander. Something very strange and different had happened today, but she couldn't place her finger on just what.

She went to the moments where Syaoran played "Diver," his eyes closed and raw emotion on his face as he sang in that beautiful, rough voice of his. She would never have said it to him—his ego was big enough as it was—but she found that it was nearly as beautiful to watch him play the song as it was to hear him sing it.

Not long into their acquaintance, Sakura had developed an admiration for him, not because he was famous, but because of the qualities she'd witnessed that had made him so—his work ethic, his determination, his intelligence, his sensibility, his judgment. But seeing him sing truly was something else. It stirred a different kind of feeling in her. She almost wanted to say she had a bit of a rock star crush on him, but as soon as the thought even began to form, she hurriedly squashed it back down into the recesses of her mind, both out of a sense of embarrassment and a realization that it was fruitless to feel anything beyond friendly fondness for him.

_But what about him_? a nagging voice asked in the back of her mind. _What about what he said to you?_

It _had_ been peculiar...

"_Not when it comes to you._"

Remembering the intensity of Syaoran's eyes on her as he'd said those words made her feel a sharp ache in the pit of her stomach. What had he even meant by that?

Sakura groaned in confusion. She felt safe calling him a friend now, but she'd never quite had a friendship like this before, celebrity aside. So what were they?

Sakura's phone rang loudly on her bedside, startling her out of her reverie. Reaching over blindly, she felt around until she grabbed the phone and held the screen to her face to see that it was Tomoyo.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sakura! Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was just adding some finishing touches to my portfolio for tomorrow's interview in my office, and my phone was in the bedroom."

"Oh, right! How's that going?" Sakura asked, rolling over onto her stomach.

"Pretty good! I think everything is ready, but gosh, I'm so nervous—whenever I think about it, my palms get sweaty—"

"Relax, you're going to do _fine_. I have yet to hear anyone say anything bad about your designs!"

Tomoyo was scheduled to present her designs tomorrow in an interview with MIA, a top Japanese fashion house who'd expressed an interest in her work since her last year of college. Sakura was happy for her friend and felt the very joy that Tomoyo expressed the day she'd been notified of the interview, and she had no doubt that Tomoyo would get the job and excel in it. She did, however, have some difficulty ignoring how pathetic she felt when she put the state of her own career beside her best friend's. Even with the satisfactory pay and the development of her friendship with Syaoran, Sakura was most definitely not where she had planned or hoped to be at this stage of her life.

"Oh, you're probably right, I should probably stop fussing... Anyway, how was your day?"

"It was okay," Sakura responded, her voice sounding muffled as she rested her head on her pillow.

"Why do you sound so dead?" Tomoyo asked with a giggle.

"I'm emotionally and physically exhausted," Sakura said, and she laughed a little at how dramatic that sounded.

"Emotionally? Did something happen today?"

"I guess you could say that..."

"Wait," Tomoyo gasped. "Did you see him again?"

"Who?" Sakura said innocently, pursing her lips. She'd forgotten to inform Tomoyo of their next meeting, and she knew her friend would throw a fit once she found out—

"_You know who!_"

Sakura sighed as she lifted her head and rested on her forearms. "Yes, but _please_ don't get mad, I meant to tell you that we were going to meet and I honestly just forgot, things have been so crazy—"

"Skip the preamble and spill the details!" Tomoyo said, her voice rising in pitch.

Sakura held the phone away from her ear, wincing, but she breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that this was about as severe as Tomoyo's reaction would be. She tried to find a reasonable way to tell the story so that Tomoyo wouldn't take it and run away with it with her overactive imagination, the way she usually did, but she knew that there was likely no avoiding that, anyway.

With a large intake of breath, Sakura launched into the story of how she had called Syaoran, initially just to talk—and then felt that the act was simply too intimate for the length of time and the depth in which they knew each other and, as a result, impulsively created an excuse of needing to see him for a photo shoot again. Much to Tomoyo's excitement, she revealed Syaoran's proposal to make their meetings a regular occurrence. She described their meeting, the songs he played her, their discussions and what she learned about him. For the first time since this had all happened, Sakura described her fears and insecurities about this whole process of getting to know Syaoran, of the very _idea_ of even knowing him on an intimate level, and as she did so, she felt a great weight leave her shoulders.

Tomoyo responded with insightful yet soothing comments, providing understanding and empathy and a reassurance that Sakura's reactions were quite normal for such an abnormal situation. That was something Sakura needed, and she remembered at times like these why they had remained friends for so long. As much as Tomoyo liked to express her excitement through extreme enthusiasm and somewhat far-fetched conclusions, she knew that now was not such a time to do so—not when her best friend was genuinely confused and even a little frightened of what was happening—and Sakura was thankful for that.

However, when Sakura mentioned what Syaoran had said to her at the end of the evening and the strange, indescribable tingling that had remained so palpable between them through the entire car ride home, Tomoyo took some time to respond, so much so that Sakura had to ask if she was still on the phone. When Tomoyo finally did speak, she did so in a solemn voice that betrayed no joking or presumption.

"Sakura, I really—I think it sounds like he genuinely has some kind of feeling for you. Even if it's not _romantic_—although, if I'm being honest, I want it to be—it's special. I do think something else is happening between you guys... And I don't think you should shy away from it."

As Sakura listened to her friend with the phone pressed to her ear, her knees drawn to her chest, she couldn't help feel that warm, tingling sensation she had felt with Syaoran bloom all throughout her, causing goosebumps to rise along her skin.

It was such an improbable thing—and yet, Sakura thought, nothing that had happened between them was normal. _Then again_, she thought with a snort, _it's not like _he's _exactly normal, either._

To call it romantic was taking it much too far, but Sakura felt a small but steadily growing part of her clinging to a hope that perhaps Tomoyo was onto something—perhaps Syaoran did find himself attracted to her beyond the realm of their friendship and their professional relationship. And in that hope, she realized that she had given in—she was, in fact, quite infatuated with him, and she suspected that it would only grow from here.

_Well, this isn't dangerous or anything_, she thought with a sigh.

Tomoyo seemed to hear everything Sakura thought in that one sigh, and Sakura could hear the gentleness in her friend's otherwise firm words as she spoke again. "I mean it—I know it's probably scary. But don't run away from this. Explore it."

"It is scary," Sakura conceded with a mumble.

There was a pause before Tomoyo spoke again. "I understand that it's an unfamiliar situation, since he's... Well, he's Syaoran Li. But... Sakura, it's also been awhile since Isamu, hasn't it?"

Sakura felt a slight churning in her stomach that, for once, had little to do with Syaoran. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I hardly remember what liking anyone even feels like," she said, and she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"It'll be okay. One day at a time. And I'm always here," Tomoyo said.

Sakura smiled. "Thanks, Tomoyo."

"Anytime." Tomoyo let out a long sigh. "You know, it's taking me a lot of effort to keep from screaming out loud at what's happening in your life right now! I'm practically bouncing in my seat," she said, giggling.

Sakura laughed at that. "I know, I know. You can let it all out next time you see me, I promise." She glanced at the clock. "It's a bit late—shouldn't you be sleeping so you can get up early for your interview tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I suppose I should go now. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck! Not like you'll need it, though," Sakura grinned. "Good night, Tomoyo!"

The two hung up, and Sakura lay back in her bed and turned off the lamp on her bedside, her mind abuzz with her conversation. By this point in her life, she was old enough to know that life changed very quickly and often threw curveballs that no one could ever even hope to see coming, but lately, almost nothing in her world was constant.

The biggest change of all—her rapid approach into unfamiliar territory with Syaoran—was exhilarating and frightening at once, for not only was it new, but it was also slowly working to loosen her grip on the pangs of her past.

And with that last thought, she drifted off into sleep.

* * *

"So, let me get this straight. You played her a song that you haven't even finished writing yet?"

"Yes."

"And you let her convince you to talk to Matsura about making this your next single?"

"Yeah."

"Syaoran."

"What?"

"You're in way over your head here," Eriol said with a chuckle, leaning back in his office chair.

Syaoran scoffed. "Don't be silly. She's..."

"What, a paparazzo? That hasn't seemed to stop you so far." Eriol's glasses flashed as he watched his friend with knowing eyes.

Syaoran had stopped by Eriol's after the photo shoot had ended to eat dinner and to distract himself from thinking about Mizuki's email, which he had yet to open. His plan hadn't worked out quite as well as he'd hoped; he could feel the weight of his phone in his pocket constantly, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he gave in and opened the message. Still, as Eriol and Syaoran had discussed the events of the day, conversation had turned to Sakura, which was just about as distracting a topic as Syaoran could think of. Eriol expressed immense interest in the subject of Sakura as well, even though he hadn't met her, because of her effect on Syaoran. He seemed to treat the topic with some amusement, much to Syaoran's irritation, but in all fairness, he knew that if Eriol ever told him that he was becoming involved with a paparazzo, Syaoran probably would have laughed, too.

_Becoming involved? Isn't that jumping the gun a bit?_ Syaoran thought warily to himself.

"Stop me from doing what, exactly?" Syaoran said, eyes focusing on a building visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows just behind Eriol's head. He didn't know why, but he didn't feel comfortable meeting his friend's eyes right now.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Eriol said, and his grin only grew wider.

Finally, Syaoran let his eyes drift to Eriol's face, and he rolled his eyes. "You look ridiculous right now. Like a blue-haired Cheshire Cat in a business suit."

Eriol laughed. "Well, I'm thoroughly amused. It's an uncanny situation, don't you think? For someone who's so harmless and the length of time you've known her, it seems she wields quite a bit of influence over you."

"I mean... Yeah," Syaoran said, unable to argue with that. After all, when he was being honest with himself, it was true. _But..._ "It's not like she's even telling me what to do, though. I think she's just able to see what I really want—which is crazy, because I thought I had a better poker face than that—and it just makes sense to her for me to go for it."

"Sounds like a girlfriend," Eriol said, the grin growing on his face once more. There was an almost unnoticeable tenderness in Syaoran's voice as he spoke of this girl, but knowing Syaoran as well as he did, Eriol was able to catch it almost immediately. Regardless of what Syaoran said, something was happening here—and he knew that Syaoran knew it, too.

Syaoran's eyes flashed as he glared at Eriol. "It's nothing like that."

Eriol shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with letting someone in every once in awhile, you know." He paused. "Well, I suppose it's different with paparazzi—but then again, it seems she's not your average paparazzo."

Syaoran sighed, visibly deflating a little in his chair. "She's not." He shut his eyes. "I mean... I don't know how I'm even supposed to feel about all of this—about her..."

"You're not. There is no 'supposed to.' You just...do. You can't help how you feel. What matters is how you react to it."

Syaoran smirked. "Where did you pick up that kind of wisdom?"

Eriol let out a _pshh_ and waved his hand. "I was born with this wisdom."

"Well, then, impart some more of that wisdom on me. Mizuki contacted me today."

For once, Eriol seemed caught off-guard. "What?" he said, his eyebrows raised so high that Syaoran thought they might touch his hairline. "What did she say?"

"She sent me an email. I haven't opened it yet."

"She sent you an email? That's almost archaic, don't you think?"

Syaoran shrugged. "Knowing her, she probably thought texting or calling me was too personal."

"Well... Are you going to open it?" Eriol asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be. Although he had liked Mizuki while she had dated Syaoran, it was difficult for him to forget how Syaoran had fallen to pieces after she'd left, and so he felt a slight defensive bitterness towards her that he could not control.

"I don't know," Syaoran said quietly, his brow furrowed. "It shouldn't be such a hard decision, but I think I really need to think on it."

"Well, no one's pressuring you one way or the other," Eriol said reassuringly. It was always a little startling when Syaoran betrayed a moment of vulnerability. It was so unlike him that it made Eriol all the more concerned when he did. "Remember—you're not _supposed to_ feel anything. You feel whatever you feel."

Syaoran exhaled and nodded. "Right."

"Well," Eriol said, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on his desk, "it's been a ridiculously long day and there's been far too much serious conversation between us for one night. How about we go get a beer? On me."

Syaoran shook his head. "I wish I could, but I need to be in the studio pretty early tomorrow. Rain check?"

"Yeah, definitely. I guess I don't need to be going downtown, either... I have to get up early for some interview that I'm guest-judging tomorrow for a fashion house."

"Sounds riveting."

Eriol snorted. "Yeah, right. One of the original judges couldn't make it and I owe the head of the house a favor, so I'm filling in."

"What do you know about fashion?" Syaoran scoffed.

"What, my business suits don't count as fashionable?" Eriol said with a grin. "Nah, I think I'm just sitting in to judge the professional qualities of this girl more than her portfolio."

"Got it. So it's just one girl, huh?"

"Yeah, some girl who just graduated college last year—I don't even know why they're asking her to come in for an interview, I'm pretty sure the head designer is already in love with her and wants to hire her on the spot."

"Wow," Syaoran said, getting up and slipping his leather jacket on as he prepared to leave. "Any idea who she is?"

"Nope, not at all. But the interview is early in the morning, so she'd better make things interesting if she wants me to stay awake," Eriol laughed as he got up to see Syaoran to the door.

* * *

Luckily for Eriol, the interview had turned out to be quite interesting after all.

The interviewee, twenty-two-year-old Tomoyo Daidouji, was stunning, with black hair that seemed to shine violet in the light tied back into a loose bun and vivid amethyst eyes. Although she seemed to have a slight case of nerves, she had walked in greeted each of the interviewers confidently, and although he could have been imagining things, Eriol was almost certain that those very eyes had crinkled into a playful, subtle smile when she shook his hand.

Still, Eriol had seen plenty of gorgeous women in his lifetime, given his profession; it was only when Tomoyo spoke that he grew interested, and then, impressed.

Tomoyo not only appeared more than qualified for the job, but she was also quite witty and well-spoken, speaking with a charming air of knowing—as though she had an exciting secret to relay to whomever she spoke. By the end of the interview, Eriol had found himself harboring a slight schoolboy crush on her.

After she left and the judges discussed their decisions, Eriol tossed in a definitive "yes," submitted his notes to the head designer, and left to go to work.

Although he was certain that he would never see this girl again and thought it rather unprofessional to look up her number from her application and call her as he had briefly thought about doing, he mentally thanked Tomoyo Daidouji for making his morning rather fascinating, and he left it at that.

* * *

Sakura caught herself staring at her phone once more and hurriedly turned her face back to her computer screen, typing away at an article while half-listening to Chiharu's cheerful jabbering about this and that, a vacant smile plastered on her face.

It had been two weeks, and she'd had minimal contact with Syaoran. She had texted him a few days prior, after she'd submitted the last batch of photos, to tell him thank you. She had received an even larger sum of money than last time, and she couldn't ever recall feeling so financially free since she had started living on her own. While she was not wealthy by any means, the commission on top of her usual salary had allowed her to finally get things that she'd needed but had initially decided to make do without—stray pieces of furniture, months' worth of rent in advance, decent food, and so on. As much as she said it, she meant it—she felt like she owed Syaoran a lifetime for what he'd done for her.

He had responded with a brief _No problem_, and then, after that, Sakura did not hear from him for several more days. He'd finally called her again at the end of the week, but only to explain that he could not meet for quite some time, as he would start making promotional rounds soon and would have very little free time. He'd said all of this quite apologetically, but he'd been short and hurried, as though he weren't supposed to be on the phone at all, and somewhat startled by his tone, Sakura had allowed him to go with a mere, "Oh, sure, okay."

Syaoran had not contacted her since then, and Sakura had not tried to contact him, either, not wanting to bother him when he was busy. She tried not to let it bother her, for he was, after all, an incredibly busy person when he wasn't taking a hiatus, as he'd been doing when Sakura had initially met him. But she experienced a whiplash from the suddenness of spending one whole week seeing him almost on a day-to-day basis and then spending the next two not seeing him or hearing from him at all. As a result, she felt more foolish with each passing day at having thought that they were friends, and she felt even more foolish at having felt anything beyond that for him.

After all, she hadn't even known him for that long. And somewhere in the process, she'd allowed herself to forget the most important fact of all—that he was Japan's biggest rock star, and she was a paparazzo.

* * *

Two weeks had passed, and Syaoran still had not opened the email.

He'd done everything else to it that he possibly could without opening it—deleted it, heaved a sigh ten minutes later and retrieved it from his deleted messages, read the title backwards and forwards—but he simply could not bring himself to open it. It was a Pandora's box that he wanted more than anything to avoid; even if he couldn't call his current state of being _normal_, he was about as close to normal as he'd been for the last few months, and he had a feeling that the contents of that email would completely throw him off.

So, in the meantime, Syaoran had thrown himself into his work, surprising Matsura and even Meiling with the level of enthusiasm he put into his recording and songwriting and promotion efforts. He appeared on time to every appointment and meeting, completed every interview with a smile, and gave his all in every song. He'd even begun making his rounds on the variety show circuit without a word of complaint to Meiling, appearing on several and trying not to wince at the nonsensical atmosphere.

In doing so, he'd had to expand his bubble and lift his walls quite a bit, allowing himself to interact with more handlers, photographers, fellow celebrities, and variety show hosts than he had done in a very long time. In a way, it was nice—he'd forgotten how _human_ he felt when he actually made the effort to be around other people, which clashed with his private and reserved nature. He'd been much more social when he was younger, mingling with fellow actors and then singers, and once he had started dating the much more sociable Mizuki, he'd had more friends than he'd ever had in his life. He'd allowed himself to become lost in all of it because Mizuki enjoyed it so much, but at the end of the day, he'd still quite enjoyed being alone or, if not alone, just with a select few good friends. All of it had gone to hell when the scandal had erupted. One by one, his friends had tapered off, either distancing themselves from him or allowing him to distance himself from them. When Mizuki had ended it with him, he had cut off contact with many of the remaining ones, most of whom he came across on this new promotional circuit. Thankfully, most were quite genial and supportive of him, offering him wishes of good luck and offers to meet up again soon.

Still, none of it made Syaoran feel quite as normal as he had with Sakura, whom he'd had neither the time nor the nerve to contact during his self-imposed descent into what he had come to call "distractive promotional hell." Although he wanted to call her, he found his desire to speak to her soured somewhat by the anxiety of Mizuki's unopened email. And each time after he wanted to speak to her or see her, he'd either been too busy or too confused—and he was quite tired of feeling confused—so he'd shoved it into the back of his mind, letting the thought come out only when he was in bed, half-asleep and too tired to make any sort of move to contact her.

He felt bad about it and hoped that he had not hurt her feelings, but it wasn't like he was going to avoid her forever—he just wanted to figure out his feelings and, really, he just wanted to have never received that damn email.

Finally, one night after a long day of recording and shooting another episode for another variety show, he sat on his sofa, phone in hand, and unable to take this restless ache in his chest any longer, he held his breath and opened Mizuki's email.

_Hi, Syaoran,_

_I'm sure you're surprised to hear from me... To be honest, I'm a bit surprised that I'm messaging you, myself. If you don't respond for awhile, or if you don't respond at all, that's okay. I understand._

_I'm in Thailand filming right now! It's so beautiful here, I wish you could see it. I find myself wishing I could tell you all about it more often than I thought I would, and, I don't know. It makes me miss you. I do miss you. A lot._

_Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for anything from you, and I don't expect anything from you. I know it was probably silly and stupid to message you like this. But if you're ever feeling up to it, I'd still really like to be friends. You were one of my best friends in such a key time of my life. I can't imagine my world without you._

_I also want to apologize for how abruptly things ended between us and how little of an explanation I gave you when I left. I haven't heard much about you since then, and I hope you're doing okay. I know there was a lot of faith lost between us... I'm sure you lost a lot of faith in me, too... But maybe someday soon, we can leave it all behind us, and it could be like old times._

_Oh, God, I don't know. I'm so nervous, sending this to you. I know you probably hate me and I've probably rewritten this stupid email like, five hundred times. I guess, in the end, it doesn't make a difference—what happened, happened, didn't it?_

_I'd love it if you responded. I understand if you don't. But regardless of what you do, Syaoran, please be well. _

_Take care,_

_Mizuki_

With a sigh, Syaoran shoved the phone back in his pocket and leaned forward on his knees, rubbing his temples. He hadn't felt—or _allowed_ himself to feel—this much emotion in quite some time. He was, all at once, elated, hopeful, furious, sympathetic, defiant, absolutely confused, and most of all, sad.

It had been more than he'd hoped for from her—he had expected her to simply avoid contacting him ever again—and yet, it was not satisfying to him in any way.

Still, he felt some form of relief in that it was over, that he had finally opened the email and read it and not spontaneously combusted like he'd thought he might. Unsure of what to do and suddenly very uninterested in going over his agenda for tomorrow like he'd planned, he decided to go to bed, although it was rather early.

But after rolling around for two hours with only his thoughts to drive him insane, Syaoran finally accepted that he would likely not fall asleep that evening. He rose out of bed with a groan and threw on sweatpants and a t-shirt, grabbed his keys, and headed to his car. Perhaps a drive would settle his thoughts.

* * *

Syaoran had taken his hand off the steering wheel and then put it back on at least a dozen times in the last three minutes. He had no way of explaining, even to himself, what he was doing here. He looked out through the windshield at Sakura's apartment building, where her windows were lit up. He wished they weren't, because then he'd have a reason to go back home.

_But you do have a reason to go home: this is crazy. _

He groaned and leaned his head against the steering wheel, letting his hands slide down to his lap and then back up to the ignition, where he gently turned the key and removed it. His car shut off, and with the noise of the car abruptly stopping, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. It seemed he had made a decision, whether he wanted to or not.

After shuffling through the contacts on his cell phone, he finally dialed the one he was searching for and held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring for a moment.

"Hello?" Sakura sounded surprised, which irritated him—hadn't he called her enough by this point for her to not be shocked by it?

_Then again, you haven't called her in a week, _he thought to himself, and suddenly, he felt like a jerk. He had a difficult time figuring out what to say, and so he remained silent for a moment.

"Hello?" Sakura said again, and then after a pause, she spoke again. Syaoran could hear the frown in her voice. "Syaoran? Are you there?"

He still couldn't find words, and he expected her to hang up, but her voice came through again, one more time:

"Syaoran... Is everything all right?"

With that, Syaoran let out an exhale, and without even thinking about it, he let the words tumble out of his mouth. "Are you busy?"

"Oh, good, you're there," Sakura responded with a sigh. "I thought maybe someone had kidnapped you and called me for ransom or something ridiculous like that. Although, I guess I can't see why they'd call _me_for ransom money—"

The corners of Syaoran's lips lifted slightly as he cut her off. "You didn't answer my question."

A light laugh. "Sorry, I'm being silly. No, I'm not busy. What's up? I thought you were busy, so I wasn't expecting to hear from you for awhile."

He fiddled with a loose string on the hem of his shirt as he briefly weighed the impact of his next words. "I'm outside. Mind if I come in for a bit?"

Silence settled for a moment, and then Sakura's voice came more surprised than he'd heard it in a long time—since they'd first met, perhaps. "Outside—outside my _apartment_?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly flustered, and he scratched his head. "I just... I went out for a drive, and then I ended up in this area of Tokyo, and then I just kind of drove here without really thinking... I know this is a little weird, so if I was interrupting anything, I can just go home—"

"No, no! Not at all. Uh... I'll be outside in just a second."

_Click._

Syaoran stared at his phone a moment, taking a moment to ponder how surreal this was, and then he pocketed the phone and stepped out of his car.

* * *

"It's... It's not that great of a place or anything, I know," Sakura said nervously, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as Syaoran walked behind her, his eyes wandering.

"It's fine," he said, and he meant it. It looked comfortable, lived-in, tidy, he thought. It looked like a nice place to come home to. "It looks like you."

She sat down on a sofa in the living room and indicated that he do the same. "Thanks, I think," she said with a smile. "You helped me buy this sofa, you know."

Syaoran glanced down at the couch as he sank into its seat. "I did?"

Sakura nodded. "With my first few big paychecks from getting all those great photographs of you, I saved up enough to get a new one. The old one was a bit threadbare—I'd bought it secondhand from a garage sale, you see..."

She babbled on for awhile about this and that as Syaoran lay back into his seat, watching her face light up with her conversation and feeling physically and mentally more relaxed than he had in quite some time. It had been a strange decision to come here—but, he decided, it had also been the right one.

"So, anyway, that's enough of that," Sakura finished, smoothing her hands across her seat. She frowned a little and peered more closely at him. "Let's hear why you're here. It's not often that you're the one who comes tracking me down."

Syaoran sighed and closed his eyes. "We're friends. Friends visit."

She ignored the silly hope that started thudding back to life inside of her at the word and instead glanced at the clock. "At 11:30 at night?"

"Ah. It is pretty late, isn't it? Sorry if I'm keeping you from bed."

Sakura shook her head. "You're not. But I'm not joking—I want to know why you're here."

Syaoran opened one eye, looked at her, and then opened the other. "I'm sorry about not contacting you for so long."

Sakura's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh—uh, well, that's okay! I know how busy you can get, and I'm sure you're too busy and tired to put up with an mock photo shoots between promotion, so—"

Syaoran shook his head. "It was more than that. I mean... I was busy. I am. I haven't had any free time at all lately. But..." He frowned, and he looked over at Sakura, that ache evident in the glow behind his eyes once more. "I've... I guess I've been pretty confused, too."

Sakura found it hard to breathe, let alone speak, when Syaoran was looking at her like that, especially in such proximity, and so she kept her eyes ahead on the muted mini-television that sat across the room in front of the coffee table. "About what?"

Syaoran scratched his head. "I suppose I can't assume anything about what you know about me anymore," he said with a small chuckle, "but I was involved in a bit of a scandal earlier this year, and my girlfr—ex—and I broke up a little while after that. It was all over the news, but once again, when it comes to you, I don't know _what_ you have and haven't heard about me—"

"That much, I knew," Sakura said, and she grew slightly red. "I researched you a little bit when I first got my job," she admitted.

"Ah. So you've heard the tidy media-friendly version then, have you?" Syaoran said, a wry smile on his face.

"I have. I... I'm kind of new to the gossip industry, though, so I don't really ever know what to believe and not to believe. I take it all with a grain of salt, I guess."

"That's smart of you," Syaoran responded, and he felt himself smile a little. "Maybe I'll tell you the whole story sometime later on, but the basics are out there, so you've probably heard all of it. The point is, we've been over for a few months now, and we haven't spoken since then."

Sakura listened intently, unsure as to why Syaoran had come all the way over here just to tell her this. He looked exhausted.

"A couple of weeks ago, Mizuki emailed me," he said slowly, carefully. "I couldn't bring myself to open it for a long time—not until tonight, actually."

Sakura paused, unsure of what to say. The moment seemed so fragile that she was actually nervous that she would say the wrong thing and shatter it to pieces. "Is it...is it okay for me to ask what she said?"

"She said she wanted to be friends," he muttered, leaning back into the sofa and staring at his lap. He scoffed and shook his head. "But it wasn't even like I could be mad, because she's always so damn honest, and I know she wasn't hiding anything in that message—she laid it all out there for me. She told me she was in Thailand, and that she missed me, and that she wanted nothing more than to be friends. She said she was nervous that I wouldn't respond, but that she would understand."

With a sigh, Syaoran raised his hands in the air in a gesture of cluelessness for a moment before letting them drop back into his lap. "What am I even supposed to say to something like that? How am I supposed to feel?"

Sakura bit her lip as she struggled with the sudden overwhelming urge she had to envelop him in a hug. In this moment, he looked more lost than she'd ever felt. "It's—it's okay, Syaoran. You're allowed to feel whatever you want to feel. So if you're angry, be angry, and if you're hurt, be hurt. And if you want to be friends, tell her that. And if you can't, it's okay," she said earnestly. She paused, trying to find the right words to say. "You're not supposed to feel. You just...feel."

Syaoran whipped his head over to look at her then, surprised by the familiarity of the words. _This girl..._

She blinked back at him, confused at the sudden look of surprise on his face.

Syaoran cleared his throat, choosing to ignore the coincidence for now and store it away for later. "Well, the point is—the point is, I've been really confused. I've had this anxiety about reading the message since I got it, and now that I've read it, I feel like I'm just more tangled up than before, and..." He looked over at her. "I felt confused when I thought about you, too."

"About me?" Sakura squeaked. _You thought about me?_

"Yeah," he said, smiling slightly at the sudden rise in the pitch of her voice. "I was just tired of feeling confused, and I really needed to focus on work—and so that's why I haven't spoken to you in awhile. I'm sorry," he finished, feeling somewhat ashamed.

"It's really okay," she breathed, and she caught herself reflexively reaching out to touch his arm to reassure him—but she stopped herself before he could see.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Sakura raised her eyes at Syaoran and pursed her lips, question burning on the tip of her tongue. "Syaoran?"

"Yeah?"

"Was it... Was it a bad confusion?" she asked, trying to ignore the blush that crept up her neck and to her cheeks.

Syaoran bit back a full-blown smile as he looked at her and shook his head. "No. Not really."

"Oh," she said lamely, and as she watched him watch her, his eyes searching her own relentlessly, she had to remind herself to breathe.

Finally, unable to take the tension, she stood up abruptly. "Well, you know what we should do?"

"What?" Syaoran looked up at her, somewhat confused and very entertained.

"We should just forget all about everything for now—that email and your work and my work—and just eat a big pot of ramen and watch funny TV shows," she said determinedly.

Syaoran laughed. Nothing had sounded so appealing to him in a long while. "Let's do it."

* * *

Sakura awoke to the sound of the television blaring in the background and her cheek pressed against something very comfortable. Snuggling closer into it, she inhaled its soothing scent and began to drift back off to sleep, until she realized something wasn't quite right.

She opened her eyes fully and pushed herself up, and her eyes widened at what she saw.

Syaoran Li was sleeping soundly on her sofa, and the upper half of her body was half-draped over him with her arms enveloped around his torso. The lower half was awkwardly squeezed between his legs and the back of the sofa. One of his arms was wrapped around her as well; their legs were entangled together. Ignoring her instincts to jump up and run away for fear that she'd wake him, she tried to calm the sudden pounding in her chest and wondered how she'd ended up in this situation. The sunlight streaming through the window indicated to her that it was early morning; their empty pot of ramen sat on the coffee table. They must have fallen asleep watching TV the night before, and somehow, she'd ended up sleeping on him. Glancing around in a panic, she wondered how to handle this. If he awoke and saw this, things would surely be awkward between them, but pretending to be asleep was out of the question at this point for her. She sighed and repressed a groan, and without thinking, she laid her head back against his chest before realizing what she'd just done and lifting it back up again in a hurry.

Her eyes caught sight of the expression on his face as he slept for the first time, and she stopped thinking for a moment. He looked more at peace than she'd ever seen when he was awake. His bangs scattered across his brow and slightly covered the lids of his eyes, and his lips were slightly parted as he breathed in and out, in and out. It was breathtaking.

Suddenly, she felt herself jerked downward, her head against his chest once again as the arm around her pulled her more tightly to him, and to her surprise, she felt him snuggle into their embrace, adjusting to create the most contact possible between their bodies. She let out a breath as she remained on his chest, and for some reason, she suddenly didn't feel a need to struggle her way off of him. It was nice, she thought, to be held like this again, even if Syaoran wasn't aware or even conscious. Somehow, the contact infused her with something she hadn't felt in a long time—intimacy, a sense of love and adoration and someone else's yearning to be close to her.

She shut her eyes, and for a moment, she let herself imagine that this was real.

The moment did not last for long, however, as Syaoran breathed in deeply and awoke seconds later, eyes squinting as he glanced confusedly around the room. He saw and felt Sakura in his embrace all at once, and he bit his lip as he cursed inwardly. He hadn't meant to fall asleep here.

"Sakura," he said gently, unsure of what to do.

Sakura opened an eye and lifted her head. "Hi," she whispered with a nervous smile. "You're awake."

"Have you been awake?" Syaoran frowned.

"Just for a few minutes," Sakura said hurriedly, and she mentally kicked herself as she realized how stupid she must have sounded. "I tried to get off of you, and you—uh—well, you pulled me back down and wouldn't let go," Sakura said, her expression something between an apologetic smile and a grimace.

"Oh, shit. I am so sorry," Syaoran said, scrambling to sit up and gently sitting her beside him on the sofa. He felt his ears get hot as he scratched his head. "I didn't mean for any of this—"

"No, no, it's okay, me, either. I guess we just fell asleep last night, and..." she trailed off.

"Yeah," was all Syaoran could reply, and then, as his eyes met hers, both erupted in laughter.

"God, what time is it?" Sakura said, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. "I hope I'm not late for work..." She breathed a sigh of relief as she looked. "It's seven. I've got a couple of hours."

"Oh, good, me, too," Syaoran muttered. "I really thought Meiling would kill me for a second there."

"Meiling?"

"My cousin. And my PR agent," Syaoran explained as he stood up. "She runs a tight ship."

"Ah." Sakura stood up as well, shutting off the TV as she did so, and tried not to scream when she saw her reflection in the screen. She looked _terrible._ As casually as she could, she ran a few fingers through her hair as she spoke to Syaoran. "So, uh—do you need any coffee or anything like that?"

"No, don't worry about it. Thank you, though. I need to get home and shower before I go to the studio."

"I see," Sakura said, and as she walked him to the door, she caught her reflection one more time and gave up on even trying to improve her disheveled appearance.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Syaoran said uneasily as he stood at the door. "It was silly of me to come here and just interrupt your night, and—"

"No," Sakura said, shaking her head vigorously. "It was...comfortable," she said, remembering the closeness between them, the scent of him as she'd awoken.

Syaoran looked at her for a long moment, and just as she had the night before, she watched him watch her, unable to tear her eyes away from his, before she finally realized what was happening. Blushing, she laughed nervously and looked away.

"You know something?" Syaoran said softly. His brown eyes, still trained on her face, were alight in the morning sun.

Sakura felt something inexplicable building up inside of her as she waited for him to continue. "Wh-what?" she murmured, almost scared to hear what he would say.

"You..." he paused, hesitant for the briefest moment, and then he exhaled softly and forced himself to go on. "You make me feel like I'm a real person," he said, his brow furrowed. He didn't look at her as he said it, but rather down at his own hands, as though he were realizing suddenly that something was very wrong with him. He looked so pained, so vulnerable, and Sakura felt a near physical _need_ to hold him.

She resisted; somehow, even though they had literally slept together, it felt like too big of a boundary to cross.

"Oh, Syaoran..." She bit her lip. "With or without me, you are a real person." She smiled. "If it were possible, I'd say you were one of the realest."

Syaoran chuckled, and all traces of sadness were suddenly gone from his face. "I appreciate that."

And then, very carefully, he reached out and brushed a strand of Sakura's hair from her face, leaving her stunned and breathless as she watched him.

"I'll see you later, Sakura."

And with that, he was gone.

Dazedly, Sakura shut the door and stumbled back to her sofa and sat back down, hugging herself. She was having difficulty registering all that had happened in the entirety of Syaoran's stay at her apartment. Of course, his words and touch confused her greatly, but surprisingly, that wasn't the first coherent thought to occur to her.

Rather, her first immediate thought was that perhaps Syaoran Li was far more broken than he had ever let on to anyone, and that she wanted to do everything in her power to fix that.

* * *

There it is! So, quite a bit has happened here, eh? I apologize for the length of the chapter. I did think the first half was a bit necessary, but man, it was much easier to write the SxS parts.

So! Eriol and Tomoyo have met. Both Sakura and Syaoran have acknowledged to themselves that they certainly feel _something_ for each other. And now, Syaoran needs to deal with his deepening feelings as well as Mizuki's not-so-black-and-white return to his life. Or will he even accept her again? We shall see. And Sakura learns to deal with her self-doubt and her own feelings for Syaoran. If all goes according to plan, the next chapter will explore some more regular communication between Sakura and Syaoran as they get back on track with their friendship, and Eriol and Tomoyo meet yet again. Le gasp! Is it fate?

Thank you guys so much for all of your support! As silly as it sounds, writing fics here has been such a huge part of my life. Sometimes, it's discouraging to come back because the CCS fandom in particular used to be so lively and has died down quite a bit, but you all keep me coming back, even if it takes me awhile! I update with blurbs and goodies on my fic tumblr more frequently, so follow me there if you haven't. (boreum-dal on tumblr, and the link is in my profile.)

And one last thing—I'm going through and editing the old chapters of this story as well, so some things (but no vital pieces of information) are subject to change. I've also uploaded a short oneshot drabble called _Angel_, so if you'd like, go check it out! Thanks again, and please leave a review on your way out!

Till next time,

boreum dal


	12. border

**radio star**

xii. border

"Hello?"

"Yo, monster."

Sakura's eye twitched.

"_I AM NOT_—" Sakura held her phone away from her ear for a moment and glanced around her office, laughing nervously when she realized that several of her coworkers were staring at her. She bowed awkwardly and ducked down into her cubicle, settling for an angry whisper. "Touya, I am _not_ a monster! I'm twenty-two years old, aren't I a little old for that nickname?"

"You'll always be a monster to me."

Sakura resisted the urge to scream and let out a long sigh. "What number are you calling from? I didn't recognize it."

"I got a new phone today. My old one shorted out. That's why I haven't called you in a while."

"Ah."

"So, I was calling because I'm in town."

Sakura had to stifle a squeal. "_Really_?"

"Yeah. On a business trip for two weeks. I should see you relatively soon, once I get my schedule figured out. I'll try to see when Dad is free, too, and we can all get dinner."

Touya had been overseas in Washington, D.C. working for the Japanese Embassy. Although he was able to visit about twice a year because of his work, it never seemed like enough for Sakura, who missed him terribly.

"Yukito, too?"

"Yeah, yeah. He's here. He won't stop yammering about how he can't wait to see you."

"Tell him I can't wait to see him either!" Sakura said excitedly.

"I get no love in this family," Touya grumbled.

Sakura giggled. "Not our faults you decided to date someone so perfect."

Yukito, her brother's longtime best friend and partner, was like a second brother to Sakura and one of her favorite people. He got along wonderfully with both Sakura and her father as well. He also provided great counsel—perhaps she could get a moment alone with him and explain to him the whirlwind pattern that her life had taken on, and he could help her get her head on straight again.

"Well..." Touya sighed. "I guess I can't argue with that."

Sakura smiled as she heard her brother's voice soften. "No, you can't. So, dinner in a few days?"

"Yeah. I'll get back to you."

"Tell Yukito I said hello!"

"I wouldn't dream of it. See you, monster."

Sakura put down her phone and turned back to her computer, but just as she did, it rang again. "Strange Man" appeared on her screen, and she looked around for a moment before ducking once more and answering it in a hurried whisper.

"Hello?" she said, feeling ridiculous.

"Hey. Are you practicing for your spy movie again?" Syaoran's voice came from the other line, and although it was serious, she could tell he was on the verge of laughing.

"Shut up," Sakura whispered as fiercely as she could. "I'm at work! You shouldn't be calling me."

"Whoops. I forgot."

"Yeah, we mere mortals have regular working schedules."

"Shoot me," Syaoran said. "I wanted to know what you were doing for lunch."

Sakura's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She frowned. "Did we arrange a meeting today? I must have forgotten... Sorry, I've been so busy—"

"We didn't have anything planned for today," Syaoran interrupted. He was quiet for a moment, and then, "I just wanted to see you."

"I—" Sakura was struck speechless. She tried to breathe, and suddenly, she no longer needed to exert any effort to whisper. "What? No camera?"

"I don't know. I'm not used to having a day off nowadays, and I'm kind of bored. And the way to cure boredom is to see your friends, right?" he said casually.

"Oh," Sakura said. _See? He's just bored, Sakura. Pull yourself together._ "Well—right, but... Isn't there...a tiny problem with that?"

"What?"

"Um... I mean..." Sakura shook her head, trying to clear it. "I mean, we could get caught..."

"Oh, right. That." Syaoran paused. "I could pull a few strings."

Sakura looked up at the ceiling and sighed, her eyes wide. This was all very bizarre. She supposed stranger things had happened to her; that much was true. Too bad they all revolved around Syaoran Li as well.

"So, what do you say?" Syaoran pressed. "Your lunch break's in fifteen, right?"

"Yeah," Sakura breathed.

"Great. I'll pick you up."

"But I—"

"Don't worry. I have tinted windows. No paparazzi have ever seen me in this car. We're golden."

And with that, Strange Man had hung up the phone and left no room for argument. Sakura let out a long exhale and set the phone back down on her desk, staring at it cautiously with one eyebrow raised to see if it'd ring again.

"Sakura? Are you all right?" Sakura glanced up to see Chiharu peering over her cubicle wall at her.

Sakura swallowed. "Er... Yeah, why? What's up?"

"I just kept hearing you whisper on your phone and you seemed kind of panicked, so I was wondering if everything's okay."

"Oh," Sakura said, and she laughed weakly. "That? That's just something I do sometimes... You know..."

Chiharu raised an eyebrow, but then she shrugged and laughed. "You really are so odd sometimes, Sakura. Well, what are you doing for lunch? Wanna go to the bakery together?"

"Oh! Well, I'd love to, but... Ah..."

"Sakura! You're blushing!" Chiharu gasped. "Is it a _boy_?"

"What? No!"

"I think it is!" Chiharu giggled. "Well, okay. You don't have to go to lunch with me today. But I want details as soon as you get back!"

Chiharu sat back down in her cubicle, leaving Sakura to collapse on her desk. She was going to have to tell Syaoran to seriously leave her alone when she was at work—he was making people think she was crazy.

It had been three weeks since Syaoran had slept over at Sakura's apartment, and something between them had shifted, albeit very slightly, after that. They met more frequently now—twice a week, usually—and although Sakura quite enjoyed it, she knew it was far more than necessary. Syaoran had an incredibly busy schedule now that he was promoting, and Sakura suspected that he was giving up quite a bit of his only free time to do these photo shoots with her. And while she took pictures every time, she had too many to give to Yamazaki—she'd even told Syaoran this, who had waved it off and uncharacteristically said something about never having too many photographs—and they spent more of their time simply talking to each other. He had even taken her to see a movie afterwards once, both of them wearing ridiculous wigs—his blond and hers cotton candy-pink—that had suited them strangely well. If their circumstances weren't so strange and she didn't consider Syaoran so far out of her own realm of reality, she would almost think they were in an odd limbo between friendship and dating. It was something she couldn't dare to think about for more than a few moments—but when she did, she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Still, even with all the time they'd spent together, he was also more private, somehow. Since the morning he'd left her apartment, Syaoran had not made any more confessions to her about his feelings regarding his celebrity status or Mizuki, and although Sakura was vastly curious about it, she'd decided that it was best to leave it alone. If he felt like telling her anything else, she reasoned, eventually, he would.

They had developed an unexplained, undiscussed comfort with each other in this time that had left Sakura feeling quite dazed whenever she saw him. And she couldn't help but wonder—why would they spend so much time together, particularly at Syaoran's insistence, when he was so busy?

_Because we have a business arrangement_, Sakura remembered, and she sighed as she smacked herself on the head. _Don't get carried away._

It seemed she had to give herself reminders like this more and more often. This was becoming a problem.

But on top of her growing attraction to Syaoran, there was also the issue of her journalistic relationship with him. The more time passed, the more she felt that this was wrong. Even though she worked at a tabloid, she still liked to keep herself in check as a journalist—because, at some point in her life, that was what she wanted to be. And even as Syaoran continued to permit her to take these photographs and the likelihood of Yamazaki getting angry if he found out the truth was slim to none, Sakura hated herself for lowering her standards so much. As much as she hated it, she had a growing feeling that at some point soon, she'd need to make the choice between her friendship with Syaoran and her career at _Glimmer_.

Sakura's phone rang again not long after the initial phone call from Syaoran, and she hurriedly ignored the call and texted him instead: _I'm coming, give me a second!_

She gathered her things and ran out of the office before anyone could catch her getting into what was undoubtedly going to be a conspicuously nice car, shouting goodbye at Chiharu.

* * *

"I don't appreciate you ignoring my calls," Syaoran said as Sakura slid into the car—which, true to form, was a sleek, dark green Ferrari—and shut the door.

"Well, you can't keep calling me at work! People think I'm crazy because they hear me talking on the phone to you!"

Syaoran scoffed. "I'm sure they thought you were crazy well before I ever even got your phone number."

"Whatever! You're the crazy one. I can't believe you're just casually driving by my work and picking me up! What if someone sees you?"

"Well, they haven't yet," Syaoran said with a shrug, and he shifted gears and began to drive. "So, we have a couple of safe options. Chinese or Italian? You pick."

Sakura pursed her lips in suspicion. "How are we going to get away with this? ...Are you breaking out the wigs again? I don't know if I could handle that."

Syaoran laughed. "No, I happen to know the owners. But what have you got against the wigs?"

"Oh, right," Sakura said, a little surprised. Nowadays, she and Syaoran treated each other with such normalcy that, even while sitting in a car that was worth more than Sakura would make in her lifetime, she forgot that Syaoran was a person with many connections and quite a bit of power. After all, today was possibly the most normal meeting they'd had—it was the first time she had come out to see him without her camera in hand. She tilted her head to the side. "Maybe Chinese?"

Syaoran grinned. "Great. This place makes the best Chinese food in Tokyo—well, maybe aside from me."

Sakura raised her eyebrows. "You cook?"

"Yeah," Syaoran said, and he turned to look at her. "You seem surprised."

"Oh, I mean—I... Well, I'd just have taken you for the type with a personal chef," Sakura said, smiling to herself. "And maybe a waitstaff."

"I'm not _that _high-maintenance. I clean up after myself pretty well, thank you," Syaoran said, although he chuckled. "And I'm an excellent cook."

"Really, now?"

"Yep. One day, I'll cook for you, and you'll see just how wrong you were."

Sakura didn't respond but instead watched Syaoran, whose eyes were now on the road. He had said it so offhandedly that Sakura was certain he hadn't even thought about it, but she found herself wondering if they would ever get to that point—where she could just casually visit his place and he could cook her dinner and they could truly, truly be normal friends.

_A pipe dream,_ Sakura thought to herself. This couldn't last forever—only so long as she had her job. And in fact...

"Everything okay? You're kind of quiet," Syaoran noted, frowning.

"I'm fine!" Sakura chirped automatically, forcing her lips into a smile. "Just really hungry. I can't wait to eat."

Syaoran watched her for a moment longer, the frown still on his face. Sakura really was a terrible liar, he thought. But it appeared she didn't want to speak about what was bothering her, so he chose to leave it for now. "Yeah, you're really going to love this place, I think. Their dim sum reminds me of my mom's. I've really been meaning to take her there when she visits, but I always forget..."

* * *

Sakura tried not to let the intimidation show on her face as she glanced around the majestic restaurant, quietly following the owner, who served as their own maître d' and chattered comfortably with Syaoran as she led them down a long, intricately decorated hallway towards the back of the building.

"Thanks for doing this for us, Jia," Syaoran said. "I know it was pretty short notice, but we'd decided Chinese, and—"

"And you couldn't pick anywhere else, naturally," Jia responded jovially. "It's all right, especially after all the business you've given us!"

Sakura remained silent, although her thoughts felt loud enough to echo through the entire restaurant. When they'd arrived at the restaurant, settled right in the heart of one of Tokyo's busiest shopping districts and built to look like a grand ancient Chinese palace, Sakura had been rather confused. The restaurant appeared closed for its afternoon lunch break, but Syaoran had wordlessly led Sakura into the building anyway. Not quite knowing what to expect, Sakura had been surprised when the woman, Jia, had greeted both of them warmly. A plump, friendly-looking woman who wore a gauzy dress of deep purple and draped herself in enough jewelry to rival that of English royalty, Jia had immediately led them through the restaurant, which was, in fact, closed to the rest of the public for its afternoon break.

Sakura had never experienced anything like it before. It was strange and a bit uncomfortable to be treated like a celebrity, and although Syaoran seemed to handle it with an ease that could only come with habit, Sakura felt nervous and out of place.

As Jia sat them down in a booth in the back room, Syaoran glanced over at Sakura, who bit her lower lip and looked around with wide eyes. He bit back a smile and averted his gaze just as he saw her eyes drift towards him.

"Do I need to take an order, or...?" Jia asked, pen and pad in her hands.

Syaoran looked over at Sakura, who laughed nervously. "I'm not really sure what I'd want... Maybe I can just get some of whatever you'd have."

"I think the usual would be okay," Syaoran said to Jia with a nod. "Maybe a few samples of different dishes? Sakura hasn't been here before. I trust your judgment."

"Wonderful! I'll be back with something to drink shortly," Jia said with a grin, and she left to put in the order.

"Everything all right?" Syaoran asked, his head slightly tilted to the side.

"Yeah!" Sakura said with a nod. She smiled. "This place is really lovely."

"You're a little fidgety today, you know," Syaoran said, amusement tinting his voice.

"Oh," Sakura said, surprised. "Well..." She sighed sheepishly. "I guess I feel a little overwhelmed. I've never done anything like this before."

"What, come to a restaurant?" he teased.

"You know what I mean," Sakura said, although she felt the heaviness in her stomach lift a bit at his chiding. "It's just so"—she paused to look around at the high, regal ceilings and the exquisitely carved furniture—"so _fancy_, I feel like I might break something—and we're not even supposed to be here and all..."

"Says who? We got in, didn't we?"

"Well, _you_ could be here, but... I don't know. I feel a little...grubby, I guess. Kind of like a pauper." She had to laugh at the sound of it even as she said it.

Syaoran chuckled. "A pauper? You're not in rags or anything, as far as I can see."

"Well, in the middle of all this finery, I might as well be. If you'd warned me, maybe I could have come dressed more like the owner," Sakura said with a giggle.

Syaoran glanced behind them towards the hall, where Jia had gone. "I don't think I'd take you anywhere if you dressed like Jia," Syaoran grinned. "I'd have to introduce you as my grandmother."

Sakura threw her head back and laughed at that, and Syaoran watched as she relaxed ever so slowly before him. She looked back at him, eyes twinkling now as the laughter had not quite fully left her features, and in that moment, Syaoran thought that she really had no reason to feel inadequate in their surroundings, extravagant and beautiful as they were.

"But really... Don't worry about it. You look really nice as you are."

Sakura gaped at him in wonder, trying to see if he was joking again, but his expression appeared quite solemn. He held her eyes, almost as if he were daring her to say something back, and just as Sakura managed to swallow the lump in her throat—

"Here we are," Jia sang, arriving at their table with two glasses of a bright red, fizzy concoction topped with orange slices. "These are on the house."

"Thanks, Jia," Syaoran said, giving no indication as to any awareness of the moment that had just passed between them.

"Thank you," Sakura said with a smile, bowing her head slightly. She felt drops of fizz on her hands as she took the glass, and as she sipped, her eyebrows rose in delight at the taste. She'd never had anything like it before, but it tasted like a dreamsicle in carbonated liquid form. Syaoran's words to her were momentarily forgotten.

Jia laughed. "Do you like it?"

Sakura nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it's delicious!"

Syaoran watched the pleasant exchange and smiled to himself at Sakura's reaction.

"It's a new drink I've been working on. You two are the first non-workers to try it!"

Syaoran took a sip and nodded. "It's great. I think you've got a hit."

Jia beamed. "You're too kind! Enjoy them, then. Your food will be out soon."

Sakura and Syaoran chatted pleasantly as Jia wove in and out, bringing them this dish and that. Perhaps it was because of the lack of a camera and any kind of business presence, but as Syaoran urged her to try this dumpling or a bite of that steamed vegetable dish, even feeding her a wrap with his own hands at one point, Sakura couldn't help but feel as though, after the longest time of not having been on one, they were on a date. Syaoran's playfulness had made her feel like she was at home—or like it was no different from the time they spent alone in the studio after her shoots—and Jia's welcoming nature had warded off the sense that she was trespassing into a world where she did not belong.

And amidst all the eating and the joking and the laughing, Sakura continually came back to one thought in her head, no matter how much she tried to keep away from it:

_What's happening to us?_

* * *

"Thanks for everything, Jia," Syaoran said as he signed his credit card receipt and handed it back to the woman. "I'm stuffed. It really hit the spot."

"Of course it did!" Jia boasted proudly. "Did your guest enjoy it as well?"

"Yes, she really did," Syaoran said, smiling. "She ran off to use the restroom, but when she comes back she's probably going to shower you with so much thanks that it makes you uncomfortable," he said with a laugh.

Jia smiled fondly at Syaoran, a man who, in spite of his great celebrity status throughout the continent, was as dear and familiar to her as one of her own sons. He'd been coming to this restaurant since his grade school days, long before he had ever become famous. Once his twelve-year-old self had admitted to her that he came by so often because her food "reminded him of home," Jia had taken a special liking for the boy and had even phoned in to check on him every once in a while over time. She could sense that, talented and smart though he was, he was a lonely soul. With his family so far away, she was happy that her restaurant could be a kind of home to him when he had none.

After he became famous—first for his acting, and then for his singing—he did not find as much time to come by. But when he did, it was as though they had only seen each other the day before.

As such, this familiarity with him had given Jia an insight into Syaoran's character that allowed her to see well past anything having to do with his celebrity. When his scandal hit, she had not believed a word of it and had been one of the few to whom he could come for support without even saying a word about it. So, now, when she asked him about his guest, she knew that he would tell her the truth with no fear of betrayal:

"So, are you going to tell me who she is?" the woman asked, a grin on her rouge lips.

Syaoran chuckled. "I knew you'd ask! I'm surprised you lasted this long."

"Well, I couldn't ask with her right here in front of us! And I haven't seen you smile like this in so long. You're over the moon for her."

Syaoran frowned immediately. "I am not. She's just a friend."

"Ah, but that's how it always starts out, isn't it?" she responded sagely.

Syaoran scoffed. "It's not like that. And even if it were, I'm not sure how much further it could go. She's a paparazzo," he admitted, unsure of how Jia would react. While _he_ knew that Sakura was harmless, he wasn't quite sure how the woman—often as overprotective as his own mother—would see her, once she knew of Sakura's profession.

Surprisingly, the woman only smiled. "You really can't stand for your life to be boring, can you?"

Syaoran gaped. "Pardon?"

Jia laughed. "She seems like a nice girl. It's a bit strange—but then again, it's you, so I'm not surprised! But I trust you. You might be adventurous, Syaoran, but you've always been smart about your adventures."

She patted Syaoran on the head and walked away with his card receipt, and dazedly, Syaoran realized that he'd just gotten Jia's tacit approval to...

Syaoran shook his head to clear the thought, and he stood to meet Sakura as she came back down the hall towards him.

"Ready to go?"

Sakura nodded, and although he was suddenly quite wary of her presence, he couldn't help the buoyant feeling in his chest as she skipped down the hall alongside him.

* * *

Sakura chattered animatedly the way back to her work, earlier nerves entirely forgotten. Although Syaoran was distracted—he could only bring himself to respond with noncommittal "hm"s and "yeah"s, although he occasionally did laugh at something silly that she said—considering that this was Syaoran and that he didn't particularly seem grouchy or distressed, it didn't faze Sakura at all. They finally pulled up about a block away from Sakura's work (per her request—she didn't want Chiharu to see her getting out of a flashy car and asking more questions), and when she turned towards him to thank him, she paused.

Syaoran watched her for a moment rather than saying goodbye, and sensing that he had something to say, Sakura sat and waited, looking back at him with curious eyes.

"I'm really glad you came out today," he finally said, his voice suddenly soft and solemn compared to the humorous tone he'd adopted all through lunch.

"Me, too! You were right—the food was so good! But the price tag on that meal was so insane, you'll have to let me make it up to you soon. It might be half of my paycheck, but I think I could do it," Sakura said with a giggle.

Syaoran felt a small smile form at the corners of his lips. "Sakura."

"Yes?"

He sighed. "Do you ever... Do you ever think..." He paused for a long moment, and for some reason, Sakura felt her heart drumming as she waited for him to continue.

"Do you ever think we—"

At that moment, Syaoran's phone went off loudly, startling them both and breaking whatever spell had briefly come over them.

Syaoran grabbed the phone from the compartment in his dashboard and looked at it to see that Meiling was calling. "Shit. I need to take this—she'd said there was a chance I might have to run in to do an interview today," he muttered distractedly, and he looked up at Sakura with an emotion in his eyes that Sakura found herself scared to even try to identify. He silenced the phone, although it continued to light up with the call. "Sorry, Sakura."

"Oh! No, that's—that's really okay..." Sakura reached for the door handle as she let out a rush of breath, dazed and somewhat disappointed that she wasn't able to find out what he'd wanted to say. "I'll see you later, Syaoran—"

She paused when she felt his hand on hers. She turned back around, both startled and nervous, and met his gaze.

Without a word, he raised his hand to her face, caressing her cheek. She hesitated for a moment, opening her mouth slightly to ask him what was happening, and then she thought better of it. She leaned into his touch, despite the intense pounding of her heart, and felt his fingers flutter over her skin. His eyes never leaving hers, he drew himself closer to her. Sakura let her eyes drift closed, suddenly feeling as though she were free falling...

Syaoran's phone went off again, and both paused, although his hand still cupped her face.

But for Sakura, the moment was over, and reality rushed back in. _Who am I kidding? _Sakura blinked slowly, and then she exhaled. "Syaoran," she said.

"Hm," he murmured back, eyes still searching hers, the look on his face painfully vulnerable.

"I think you should answer that," she said softly.

This time, it was Syaoran who was startled, and he drew his hand back very quickly. "Right, right," he muttered, and he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry—I'll call you? Soon?"

Sakura nodded, and she resisted the urge to pull him into the kiss that she had so badly wanted just moments earlier. "Soon. See you, Syaoran."

As she stepped out of the car and shut the door, she heard him answer the phone in an agitated voice. With a wave to her—although Sakura could hardly make out his figure through the tinted windows—Syaoran sped off, and Sakura made her way back to work, heart still hammering and Syaoran's face, just inches from hers, still branded in her mind.

* * *

"So, then, Mr. Li, do you have any touring plans to promote this upcoming album?"

Syaoran stared out the window as he idly twirled his water bottle around in his hands. _This is ridiculous. She's a paparazzo. This is—should be—logistically impossible. _

"Mr. Li?"

"Hm?" He looked over at his interviewer, who stared at him quizzically. Meiling, who sat beside Syaoran, nudged him painfully in the ribs and shot him a look that told him to get it together. "Oh, right. Ah... What was the question again?"

The interviewer looked sheepishly down at the notepad. "I know this was very last-minute—if today is a bad day, we can finish this interview sometime later—"

"Don't be silly," Meiling said. "Today is fine. Syaoran here just hasn't been at his most focused today, obviously. He asked you if you're going to tour, Syaoran," she said, her teeth gritted as she smiled—menacingly—at her cousin.

"Oh," Syaoran said, and he looked at the interviewer apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. No, I don't have any plans to tour for this album yet, but it's not completely out of the question. It's something I'd love to do, but the purpose of this album is to really get my thoughts and feelings out there in a candid and understated way—speech through music. That's the most important thing. And then, after that, maybe I could tour. The quality of the album comes first, though. That's all I'm thinking about right now."

"This would be the first album you put out without a tour on the heels of its release, then?"

"If that ends up being the case, then yeah," Syaoran nodded. "But like I said, a tour isn't out of the question. Just not my first priority right now."

"All right," the interviewer said, scanning his notepad through his glasses. "I think that's everything... Anything else you'd like to say? Perhaps a statement about your personal—"

"No personal questions for this interview, please," Meiling cut in smoothly. "That can come later."

"Right," the interviewer said, somewhat deflated. "Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Li." He stood up and shook Syaoran's hand.

"No problem. Thanks for yours. Next time, you can call me Syaoran."

The interviewer grinned. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

After the interviewer packed his things and left the café, Meiling tugged Syaoran's sleeve. "Mind if I get a ride back with you? My driver dropped me off, but if you drove here, I'd rather not wait for him to come get me."

"Sure."

They walked out to the car, and as Meiling went on and on about their scheduling for the next few days while Syaoran drove, he found his thoughts drifting once more. He thought over and over about what had happened with Sakura—what had _almost _happened—and what had compelled him to do it, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what was driving him to feel the way he felt...

"Syaoran? Hello?"

Syaoran turned towards Meiling. "Yeah? What's up?"

She glared at him. "What the hell is the matter with you today? Do you know how many times that poor interviewer had to repeat himself? You probably looked like a crazy person! That's not going to help the rumors, you know!"

Syaoran sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just tired, and—"

"Bullshit!" Meiling shouted.

Syaoran felt his temper rise, and he pulled the car to a stop as he parked in a spot behind Meiling's condo. "Meiling," he said calmly, closing his eyes. "I don't want to do this right now."

"Yeah? Well, I do! What is it that you're not telling me? As your manager _and _as your friend, I deserve to know! This is about more than just Mizuki, isn't it? This is about that other girl!"

Syaoran's eyes widened. He'd forgotten that she had ever even seen him with Sakura. He knew that there was no backing out now, though; his reaction had said more than enough, and Meiling had caught it as well.

"Syaoran," Meiling said more softly. "I'm just worried, okay? I just don't like seeing you hurt."

"I'm not a child," Syaoran muttered, but even so, his tone was petulant.

"I know. But you don't have to be a child to rely on other people to help you."

Syaoran sighed, and although he knew he could lie and keep up the charade a bit longer, there was no point in it now. Meiling had already uncovered enough that she would stop at nothing—particularly if he lied—to figure out what was happening. _She might as well hear the truth from me._

"Don't kill me," he started, looking over at her with wary eyes.

Meiling gasped. "Don't tell me that you've been hanging around a prostitute or some crazy shit like that, Syaoran, because I _swear_ to God, if you make my job _any _more difficult than it's been—"

"Would you calm down? She wasn't a _prostitute_, Meiling, give me a fucking break. She's a paparazzo."

Meiling's eyes became so wide that Syaoran thought they might pop out of their sockets. "She—she's _what_? Syaoran, are you out of your damn mind?"

"Would you rather I have told you I was with a prostitute?" he said wryly.

"_Yes_! That would be a hell of a lot better than this—"

"You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Syaoran, I'm your fucking PR agent. No, I'm not being dramatic, because what you just told me is going to jeopardize everything we've been working towards! What the hell are you thinking? A paparazzo? Who _knows_ what she's going to say about you to the press?"

"It's not like that," Syaoran said, frowning. "She's never taken any pictures of me without my permission, she's never written anything harmful about me—"

"_Without your permission_? You've been _letting_ her take photos of you?"

"Of me walking around! They're harmless!" he insisted, although he recognized that he sounded rather crazy.

"What the hell—I just don't understand, Syaoran, what would possibly drive you to do this?"

"I don't know," Syaoran muttered, staring at his steering wheel. "I like the way I feel around her, I guess. I don't feel famous."

"She's paid to take photos of you for a living, and you don't feel _famous_ around her?" Meiling said skeptically.

"Yeah. Because she doesn't treat me like I am. I mean, we're friends, Meiling, she wouldn't—"

"How sweet," Meiling said with a sneer.

"You don't even know her!"

"I don't need to! She's a paparazzo! Those people tore you apart just half a year ago, Syaoran, do you not remember this?"

"_Of course I remember!_" Syaoran finally shouted. "How could I not remember, Meiling? Every day of my damn life is a reminder of that! But she's not one of those people!" His voice softened. "That's the thing... That's the thing. Meiling, she's the only person who makes me forget."

Meiling's eyes widened. The tone of his voice—the smile she'd witnessed on his face when she'd caught him on the phone, undoubtedly with this girl...

"Syaoran... You... You don't..."

And just as Meiling murmured those questioning words, Syaoran had come to the same conclusion that she had. He looked over at her, the realization as clear on his face as the surprise was on hers. "Yeah," he breathed. "I really like her."

* * *

Mizuki Akizawa stepped through the threshold, and immediately, she was blinded by flashes of light. Shouts from reporters deafened her ears, and she looked around confusedly. Sighing, she slid her sunglasses onto her face. She'd asked her people to keep this a secret, but she supposed it was a difficult job. Understandably, word had gotten out. With a nod, she stepped forward with a polite smile on her lips and kept her head down, letting her ash-blonde curls hide most of her face.

Still, she thought as she glanced around the airport, it was good to be home. She'd missed Tokyo dearly in the time she'd been away.

Of course, it had been nice to be out of the city that reminded her so much of the person who'd been her entire world for a significant portion of her life. And now that she was back, he was the first thing on her mind. He never had responded to her email, she thought.

_Syaoran, how are you?_

* * *

All for now! Hi, guys, sorry for the longer-than-usual wait. I've really been wrapped up in _Legend of Korra_ this summer, and so I'd been working on a fic for that as well. I try not to keep more than one story running at once, but I couldn't help myself... Still! I am seriously always thinking about this story, and the good news is that a lot more of this plot has been structured and outlined in the time I haven't updated. So, that means the updates can come in a bit faster since I know exactly where I'm going!

So, we've finally gotten the ball rolling, eh? Although it looks like it'll be a bit of a bumpy ride, haha. Sakura and Syaoran are so slow-going in their development with each other, but they're certainly going somewhere. I'm sorry if this chapter felt rushed—I think it's because I felt a bit rushed writing it myself. I'll try to respond to reviews soon, too! I've been so bad about replying to those—but I want you guys to know that I read and savor each and everyone. You are seriously the best readers ever.

Oh! Also, Estela.A has kindly decided to translate this story into Spanish! I'm so thrilled and flattered, and she's been doing a wonderful job updating the story. If Spanish is your preferred language, go check it out. The link is on my profile.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review—they make me so happy!

Love,

boreum dal


	13. reckless

**radio star**

xiii. reckless

"Sakura, you've hardly touched your dinner," Fujitaka Kinomoto said, looking at her with concerned eyes. "Is everything all right? You usually can't eat enough."

Sakura glanced up from her plate, slightly surprised, before smiling at her father. "Everything's wonderful! I'm just excited to be here with all of my favorite people," she said before shoveling spaghetti into her mouth.

She felt Touya's eyes on her, and she dipped her head a bit lower so that she wouldn't have to meet his gaze. Right about now, she thought, he was probably exchanging a glance with Yukito. Nothing ever escaped them, much to her chagrin.

Touya had kept his word and set up a dinner with the family, picking their father up from Tomoeda and bringing him up to eat in Tokyo with them. It had been great to see them, but for Sakura, the timing was awful; it had been only two days since she'd gone to lunch with Syaoran, and it was all she could think about, even with her family around.

"You've lost some weight, Monster," Touya commented, spooning some of his own food onto Sakura's plate. "You're getting scrawny. Are they overworking you at that new job of yours?"

Sakura scowled. "For a government worker, you're not very diplomatic."

"I don't need to be. You wouldn't declare war on me," Touya retorted.

"Oh, yeah? Says who?"

Touya scoffed. "You'd be way outmatched—"

"I would _not_—"

"Sakura, if you're not too hungry, I'll gladly take some of your food," Yukito calmly interjected, earning a glower from Touya.

"Thanks, Yukito," Sakura said gratefully, handing her plate to him.

The other three watched in awe as Yukito proceeded to scarf down half the plate in a record three seconds and hand it back to her with a smile. Although her brother's partner was thin as a rail, he had always seemed to pack away the appetite of ten fully-grown, starving men. It had never failed to both impress and confound her.

"Well, now that that's settled," Yukito said with a grin, "when's dessert?"

* * *

"You know, Sakura, not that I ever mind talking to you, but you should give your brother a chance sometimes. He's just as easy to talk to as I am," Yukito said with a smile.

Sakura scoffed. "That's a lie. Maybe just for you, he is."

They strolled down the path of a park nearby her apartment, Yukito with his hands in his pockets and Sakura following Kero, who eagerly trotted ahead on his leash. Touya had dropped them off at her apartment and then gone to drive Fujitaka to the train station, leaving Sakura with optimal time to talk to Yukito alone.

Yukito laughed. "Well, I think he recognizes that."

Sakura looked over at him, lips pursed. "He did this on purpose, didn't he? Leaving us here like this."

Yukito nodded. "He knew something was wrong. He figured you wouldn't tell him."

Sakura bit her lip. "I don't want to hurt his feelings, but he'd probably explode if he knew. It's about a boy, you see..."

"Ah," Yukito said with a nod.

After Sakura's ex-boyfriend Isamu had ended things with her for good, everyone—from her friends to her family—had noticed a distinct change in her in the period immediately after, as she'd grown quiet and melancholy for some time. Worried, Touya had asked Yukito to talk to her when they were visiting for the holidays, and Sakura had told him everything. Of course, she knew that Yukito would inevitably tell Touya, and in a way, she preferred that—but Touya had reacted quite strongly. He'd been livid and incredibly protective, and although he had no way of enforcing it, he'd essentially told her that she was never allowed to date another boy again.

"I know you'll probably have to tell him about all of this, but...try to make it sound as best as possible, would you?"

"Of course," Yukito said. "Go on?"

"I mean... I guess to say that it's just about a boy would be oversimplifying it." Sakura felt dread in the pit of her stomach. "I... Well, you see, my job has been a little complicated—it's not really what it seems."

There was a long pause before Yukito spoke. "Is this something I probably shouldn't tell your brother after all?"

Sakura sighed. "I know you tell him everything, but it might be for the best if he didn't know this one little part..."

Yukito chuckled. "Your word is safe with me, Sakura."

"Thanks, Yukito." Sakura smiled gratefully. She let out a long exhale. "I...work for a tabloid right now. I know it sounds ridiculous," she added quickly at the slight raise of Yukito's eyebrows, which was a clear indicator of shock for someone whose cheerful expression rarely vanished, "but it's good work. They never make me do anything I don't want to do, and it's really been helping me get by. I hardly have to worry about money anymore."

"Sakura, do you think that's the best you can do, though? You have so much more potential than that."

"I know it's not the best," Sakura admitted, pausing on the walk as Kero wandered over to the edge of the path to inspect some flowers. "But it's a springboard. My boss said that he could get me in touch with people in magazine publication, and I really do think he'll keep his word."

Yukito mulled this over, and then he nodded. "Okay. I'm not sure how I feel about it—but I'm following you. Go on."

Sakura began to explain everything that had happened since she was hired—her friendships in the office, her introduction to the world of entertainment gossip, and meeting and befriending Syaoran Li. As she illustrated her world for the last few months to Yukito, he seemed to better understand why she was doing what she was doing and grew more responsive to her story. And, being Yukito, he understood the main point of all of this before she'd even laid it out for him.

"So, Sakura... Is your celebrity crush turning into something more?" he asked, stopping her in her tracks.

She looked over at him, scared for some reason, and felt slight relief when she saw that his expression was gentle—accepting, even. She really could tell him anything, she remembered, absurd as it was. "You know... I really think so. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. It's something I've been fighting against and losing to, and I don't really know how much longer I can keep it up. It's so out of control and unrealistic. But what am I supposed to do?"

"Well," Yukito said, a smile crossing his face, "first of all, I'm glad to hear that you're able to feel something for someone else again—no matter who he is."

Sakura stared for a moment in surprise, and then she felt a smile creep up onto her lips as well. "That's a silver lining if I've ever heard one."

Yukito laughed. "I live with Touya—it's my job to find silver linings. But secondly," he said, his voice more serious, "Don't intimidate yourself into thinking that someone is better than you just because of what he does. He might be a celebrity, Sakura, but he obviously values your company. There's something to be said about that. And there's no shame at all in having feelings for him. It sounds completely reasonable."

"Really?" Sakura squeaked. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear.

"Yes," Yukito responded, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses as his smile grew broader. "I suppose I can't say for certain since I've never watched you two interact—but if he wants you around so much, I'd say that you might be just as important to him as he is to his fans."

Sakura's eyes widened at that, and she felt a chill run up her spine as she thought about it. She'd always trusted Yukito. Even as gentle as he was, he never said anything he didn't mean. The thought of being someone important to Syaoran—who really was, as Yukito said, so very important to his fans, but moreover, very important to Sakura as well—made her heart thud painfully against her chest.

"I just can't imagine that that would be true," Sakura murmured.

Kero tugged impatiently on his leash, and the two began to walk again.

"Don't write off your own importance, Sakura. You're a very important person to a lot of people. Never forget that."

Sakura bit back a smile, a blush creeping to her cheeks. When she was a child, when Yukito and her brother had simply been very good friends, she had harbored an uncontrollable crush on him. On occasion, he reminded her of just why she'd liked him so much. "I won't. Thank you, Yukito."

* * *

Syaoran autographed a poster and handed it back to its owner with a smile. "Thanks for coming out today." He glanced behind her. "It looks like you were the last one in line?"

The girl looked back at him with wide eyes, clutching the poster to her chest. "Y-yes, I was," she squeaked.

"You must have waited a really long time."

The girl nodded. She looked like she might faint from excitement. "For three hours."

"Wow," Syaoran said, a grin on his lips. "That's a lot of dedication."

The girl smiled tentatively. "I-I'm just a really big fan, so..."

"Well," he stood. "I want to thank you for waiting for so long. It really means a lot to me," he said sincerely. "Would you want to get a picture?"

"Really?" the girl said, eyes nearly bulging out of her head. "You'd—you'd really do that?"

"Yes," Syaoran chuckled. "It's the least I can do. I feel bad that you had to wait."

And with that, he walked around the table, put his arm around the fan, who appeared to be near tears, and called someone over to take a Polaroid of them. As it developed, he signed the bottom of it and handed it to her.

"Really," he said. "Thank you for coming out today."

"No, thank you," the fan said, unable to contain her awe. "Thank you so much!"

Syaoran laughed as he watched the fan run off in excitement and then turned around to help the crew pack up the table. It had been a long autographing session, but Meiling had been right; he'd enjoyed himself. Things like this reminded him of the fans who had so loyally stood by him no matter what. It was a wonderful testament to why he stayed in what could, at times, seem like an entirely thankless business.

Meiling had not come out to the autograph signing, as she'd been busy with other activities, so he'd driven himself to the mall where it had taken place. Flanked by security, Syaoran walked down the back corridors of the mall towards his car, suddenly feeling exhausted. After he thanked the guards for their work, he sat in his car, and before he turned the key in the ignition, he sank back into his seat and shut his eyes, finally allowing himself to think about everything he'd been actively shutting out all day.

"_You _what_?" Meiling asked, eyes wide. As much as she could have seen it coming, she hadn't actually expected him to say it. _

"_I like her," Syaoran repeated, more to himself than to her. He let out a long exhale. "Wow."_

"'_Wow'? 'Wow'? That's all you can say right now?" An edge of hysteria made its way into Meiling's laugh. "Syaoran, what the hell has gotten into you?" _

"_I mean, I didn't plan it—I'm just as surprised—"_

"_Oh, really?" Meiling snapped. "Because you know, you could've done an awful lot to prevent it from happening, like maybe not hanging out with her in the first place!"_

_Syaoran felt his frustration rising. "I told you already, we're friends."_

"_Yeah, well, you sure as hell seem to want more than that now—and that is _not_ okay!"_

"_Do you think I wanted this, Meiling? I know it's ridiculous!" Syaoran finally shouted back, throwing his hands up in the air. _

_Meiling flinched back, and a look of regret crossed her face. "Sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to push it." _

_He sighed. "It's fine. I'm sorry for yelling." _

"_But... Syaoran... You know that what you're saying isn't possible, right?" Meiling said, her voice soft now._

"_Yeah. I know." He ran a hand through his hair. "But what am I supposed to do? It's not like I can control this."_

"_I know," she responded, and she felt genuine pity for him. This was very much unlike him, to be so irrational in his desires—and so quick to fall for someone, for that matter—but she felt like Syaoran hardly ever asked for anything. It pained her that he'd found something he wanted only for it to be impossible to attain. "But you know you have to."_

_Syaoran didn't look at her as he traced the edges of his steering wheel with a finger. "Yeah."_

_Meiling pursed her lips. "What do you think you'll do?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_Do you think it'd be too much to cut her out for good?"_

_Syaoran swallowed, and the pause before he answered seemed incredibly long, even to him. "I don't think I could do that."_

_Meiling's eyebrows shot up. "Syaoran, you—"_

"_Meiling." _

_Meiling bit her lip. _

"_What I said earlier, about her being the only person who makes me feel normal... I meant that. I don't know what that feels like anymore unless she's around."_

"_Oh, Syaoran..."_

"_Oh, Christ, you're going to cry, are you?" He rolled his eyes, but his expression was still soft. "Look, I'm not a charity case and this isn't a sob story. You don't need to cry." _

_Meiling scowled even as she wiped at her eyes. "I haven't cried since I was twelve! I'm sure as hell not going to cry over you."_

_His lips curved up slightly into a grin. "I know you're worried. But just give me some time to figure this out. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it a secret and I won't get any more involved than I am. Just...don't make me cut it off."_

"_What if I told you that you couldn't see her again anyway?" she asked stubbornly, but there was no threat in her voice. _

"_Honestly, I'd figure out a way to do it regardless."_

_Meiling sighed. That much was true. She knew it. She drew in a long breath, and then she let it out in an equally long sigh. "I can't believe this," she muttered. "Okay. Okay—you can keep seeing her. But the moment this goes to the tabloids—including the one she works for—it's over. You can never see her again."_

_Syaoran nodded. "I got it."_

"_And I've got one more condition—I want to meet her."_

_Syaoran raised an eyebrow. "You what?"_

"_You heard me. I want to meet her. Soon."_

_Syaoran pursed his lips, weighing his options. He knew he'd just won a very hard battle. It'd be hard to negotiate anything else. "Okay. Soon."_

"_Good. And Syaoran?"_

"_What? What else?"_

"_For the love of God, please be careful."_

"_I will."_

The relief he'd felt when he got Meiling to agree with him had been so strong that it was almost painful. On one level, the dread he'd felt at the thought of having to cut things off with Sakura had disturbed him—but on another level, he hadn't been surprised at all. A part of him, he thought, had been long aware of this growing affection for her. But the lines were blurry—he didn't know where his addiction to the normalcy she brought him ended and where a true liking for who she was began.

He wanted to proceed as friends—he trusted himself to be able to do that much without landing himself in trouble. But it was rapidly becoming a bigger and bigger mess, particularly with Meiling in the picture, and all he could do at this point was hope that it wouldn't get any worse while he sorted it out.

* * *

"So, Sakura, are you ever going to tell me who this mystery man is?"

Sakura looked up from her computer screen and laughed uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"

"You know, the guy who keeps calling you and taking you out to lunch and stuff!"

It had been several weeks since Syaoran had first interrupted Sakura's workday to come by and take her out, and despite the danger of getting caught on either side, it had become a habitual occurrence. Sakura wanted to kick herself for getting so careless.

"Oh, Chiharu, I—" Sakura felt herself fumbling for words. "I never said it was a boy who was taking me to lunch!"

Chiharu raised a brow as she leaned over her cubicle wall. "You never said it wasn't."

"Well—" Sakura nearly jumped when she felt her phone vibrating against her desk. She saw "Strange Man" appear on the screen for a brief moment before she covered the screen with her palm and picked the phone up hastily. "Sorry, Chiharu, I have to take this," she mumbled, and she headed out towards the hallway.

"That's him, isn't it?" Chiharu called after Sakura, a grin on her lips. "I'm going to find out who he is, Sakura!"

Sakura stepped out into the hall and answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey," she sighed.

"You sound out of breath," Syaoran said, amused.

"Well, you keep calling me at work," Sakura muttered.

"Ah, right. I keep forgetting about that. Sorry."

"It's not a big deal," Sakura said, somewhat caught off guard by the apology. That was a first. "It doesn't get me in trouble or anything, but my coworker Chiharu keeps on asking what boy is taking me out to lunch and calling me all the time at work, and if she found out it was Syaoran Li, she'd probably flip."

Syaoran chuckled. "That ashamed of me, huh?"

"Oh, stop. You know that's not it."

"Well, sorry again. I was just calling to see what you're doing after work."

Sakura laughed. "We couldn't have communicated that through text?"

"You know I hate texting," Syaoran said, and Sakura imagined him pouting a little.

"All right, _grandpa_," Sakura said with a grin. "I don't think I'm up to too much today. Why, what's up?"

"I'm just doing a little studio work. It's unscheduled, so no one's going to be around. I was wondering if you wanted to drop by."

Sakura nodded, and then she forgot that Syaoran couldn't see her. She smiled at the thought of hearing him sing again. For how much time they spent together, she marveled at how infrequently she'd witnessed it. "Yeah, sure! That sounds like fun."

"Great. Meet me there around six?"

"Sounds good. I'll call you when I'm on the bus over."

"All right. I'll see you then."

Sakura smiled as she heard him hang up, and then she shook her head and bit her lip. She'd fallen deeper in these last few weeks in spite of all of the precautions she'd taken. Although she saw him more frequently than ever, it made her even happier each time now. She knew that this was trouble, and she knew it was coming to a head—but since it was, she found herself thinking somewhat recklessly, why shouldn't she go ahead and ride it out?

* * *

"So, this is a recording studio, huh?" Sakura said, eyes wandering as she followed Syaoran into the control room.

"You've never been in one before? You can sit over there," Syaoran said, pointing to a chair in front of the large, intricate control panel.

Sakura shook her head as she sat down. "I never had any reason to."

"Ah. Right. I forget sometimes..."

"What? That I'm not a fellow rock star?" Sakura teased.

"No, I just—" Syaoran laughed. "I'm surrounded by people in the business all the time, so I think you might actually be one of the few people I've met who's never been inside a recording studio."

Sakura pursed her lips. "Well, now I just feel weird."

"You shouldn't. You're the normal one here, trust me," Syaoran muttered as he began fiddling with the controls, moving switches up and down.

Sakura watched him from her seat. "That looks complicated."

"It's really not," Syaoran said, still looking at the controls. "Once you do it a couple of times, you get at least a rough idea of where everything is, how it affects the sound—even if you don't know anything about music."

He pointed to a switch to the left of the one he'd just moved and moved his finger as he named each switch. "Treble, bass, midrange... A bunch of the stuff over there adds external effects," he said, pointing to a panel to his left.

"Somehow, you haven't convinced me that it's so simple," Sakura laughed.

Syaoran grinned. "Well, there is _one_ thing I'm going to need you to do while you're here... Do you think you can handle it?"

Sakura frowned. "I feel like I'd break that thing just by touching it."

"You'll be fine. All you have to do is hit this 'play' button and the 'record' button when I give you the okay," Syaoran said, pointing out the two buttons on the panel. "Could you do that much?"

Sakura bit her lip, but then she nodded. "Yeah, sure."

"Great."

He smiled at her, and Sakura felt her heartbeat speed up just a little. Although it was commonplace nowadays for them to laugh or grin around each other, it was a little less frequent for Syaoran to genuinely _smile_—to look like he was really happy, really where he wanted to be.

Sakura scooted her chair up as Syaoran walked into the studio and placed his headphones on his ears. "I've turned the sound on so you can hear me. You good?" he said to her through the window.

Sakura nodded.

"Okay. I'll count down—hit the buttons when I say so. Three, two, one."

Sakura pressed the two buttons that Syaoran had pointed out, and a warm, slow piano melody began playing softly through the speakers. She felt surprise, as she'd assumed he would be singing more up-tempo rock music like the song he'd sang her before.

But when he began to sing, his quiet voice surprised her even more. The roughness she'd always found so distinctive in it was still there, but it was subdued and almost sweet. The soft quality added a certain hesitance to his voice—like he was nervous, or maybe singing to someone who was falling asleep whom he didn't want to wake. It engulfed her, and she felt warm, as though she'd submerged herself in hot water on a cold day. She shut her eyes as she listened to the words.

"_I wanted to tell you just this once_

_About this love that I just can't seem to hold back._

_All this time, I've been looking your way_

_And just this once, I want to tell you everything."_

The words, made even more delicately painful by the rough softness of Syaoran's voice, sent goosebumps up her arms, and she found herself wondering if Syaoran had written this song with Mizuki in mind. It was strange, she thought, but it didn't sound like a breakup song. It sounded more like a song about a hidden love.

Syaoran moved into the chorus, and Sakura liked that there was no grand sweep in the background music—the piano was as simple as ever, Syaoran's voice just barely swelling louder than it had before. It was befitting, a song that sounded like it was meant to stay relatively quiet the whole way through, somewhat like a lullaby.

_Today, I want you._

_Today, I want to hold you in my arms._

_The more I hope for you,_

_My tears are falling_

_While your back is turned."_

_How pretty_, Sakura thought, and despite the song's sadness, she felt so comforted by it, cocooned in it. She wondered if she could convince Syaoran to push the release of this particular song more quickly. She wanted to buy it so she could listen to it as she slept.

"Sakura?"

"Oh," Sakura said, opening her eyes, and she shook her head. "Hm?"

Syaoran chuckled. "You can stop the recording. The song's over."

"Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry," Sakura said, hurriedly clicking off the recorder. "Do you have to do it over because of me?"

Syaoran shook his head as he removed his headphones. "It was just a demo. And I can always cut out the end."

Sakura breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was it that boring?" he said as he walked back into the control room. "You looked like you were falling asleep over here."

"No, no, not at all!" Sakura said, shaking her head. She smiled, eyes crinkling. "It was really, really pretty."

Syaoran stared at her for a moment, and then he smiled back. "Well... I guess that's good."

To her embarrassment, Sakura felt a blush creep to her cheeks, and hurriedly, she turned away. She berated herself for being so ridiculous. When had she turned into a fifteen-year-old girl?

"I-is that song going to be on your new album?" she managed to ask, clearing her throat as Syaoran moved over to the control panel.

"Hopefully," he said. "It's kind of a new one. I haven't actually shown it to Matsura yet... I just wanted to give him a recorded version of at least the first verse and chorus so he'd be more open to it."

Sakura frowned, looking at him. "You don't think he'd like it?"

"I'm not sure. I can never tell with him. He's usually picky about my slow songs because they don't make up the majority of my work. He thinks they have to be special."

"Well, don't _you_ think it's special?"

Syaoran raised a brow at her. "Of course I do. I wouldn't have written it or tried to push it onto the album if I didn't."

"Well, then, that should be all that matters. It's your album. If you like it, what does it matter that your boss doesn't?"

Syaoran grinned a little exasperatedly. "Well, he _is_ my boss..."

"Still," Sakura responded, her brow furrowing. "Why should he get to dictate what you put on your album? You're the one trying to put a message out there. I told you before, if it's important to you, you deserve to have it on the album! _I _think it's special."

Syaoran looked over at her, a corner of his lips lifting again, and stayed like that for a moment, chin resting in his hand as he leaned his elbows onto his knees. Sakura flushed even harder, wondering what he was doing and what she should say.

Then, slowly, Syaoran reached out to ruffle her hair. "Thanks," he said softly. Without another word, he turned back to the control panel. He hit play, and his recording began to play through the speakers.

Sakura watched his back as the music began to float through the air once more. There was no hope now in removing the blush from her cheeks, as it had spread through her whole body, making her feel strange and a little lightheaded.

The music came to a stop as the demo finished, and Sakura heard Syaoran say her name through the speakers and her squeaky response from the end of the recording.

Syaoran looked over at her, brow raised, and as soon as he met her eyes, both of them began to laugh.

"Please cut that part out," Sakura giggled. "It sounds so silly."

"I don't know, I kind of like it," Syaoran said. "It adds a nice touch, don't you think? Maybe I'll ask Matsura to put this version on the album."

"No!" Sakura shouted, laughing and reaching out to hit him playfully. "You can't do that!"

Syaoran dodged her hands easily, ducking and grinning. "Why not? You could be famous."

Sakura bit her lip as their laughter began to die down and she realized how close they'd moved towards each other in their joking. She was only inches from his face, leaning forward on the edge of her seat; he mirrored her pose. It was suddenly very quiet in the room, and Sakura wondered vaguely why neither of them had moved.

The smile had faded from Syaoran's face now, and he was staring at her again with that intensity that made her want to look away and pull him closer all at once. What was he thinking right now?

_Syaoran, what is this? What's going on?_

"Say, Syaoran..." Sakura murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Who... Who was that song about?"

Syaoran raised his eyebrows, but he didn't move back from her. He stared at her for a long time, watching her, and Sakura might have imagined it, but she thought she could see a hint of his smile in his eyes once more. She suddenly felt a churning in her stomach, and she didn't know why, but she felt like he was about to tell her something very important.

"Well," he said quietly, "to be honest, Sakura—"

"Syaoran?"

Both of them looked up to see who was there, broken out of their trance, and somehow, Sakura recognized several things at once.

For one, Syaoran looked more shocked than Sakura had ever seen him; he had become visibly pale within a matter of seconds, and his expression reminded her distinctly of when she'd fallen off of a swing as a child and felt all of the breath go out of her lungs.

For another, Sakura couldn't be certain, as she was still a novice in pop culture, but if she'd done her research right—and considering Syaoran's reaction—the female standing in the doorway, with her long, wavy ash-blonde hair gathered in a loose, thick braid and sparkling green eyes framed by those curls, could be none other than—

"Mizuki," Syaoran finally said. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

That's it! Okay, first off, I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! It's the same old excuse, but I think school is pretty much always going to rule my life until I get a job. It's my last year of college, and I'm working on trying to get into law school, so this semester has been complete and utter hell in terms of time and stress. I wrote this chapter intermittently throughout, but I never seemed to have enough time or energy or motivation or ideas to finish it all in a few long bouts. But on the bright side, a third of chapter fourteen is written already, and I have a whole month of break to work on a couple more!

Secondly, I am also sorry for the cliffhanger, haha. It felt like a bit of a cheap shot to end yet _another_ chapter with mysterious Mizuki, but to be fair, I was going to include more and decided the chapter would just get way too long. But now you'll learn more about her! (I'm not sure if you guys even want that, but on the bright side, it'll progress the storyline!)

Thirdly, the song used in this chapter is another Korean song called "Today" by Sung Joon. It's from the OST of a Korean drama called _Shut Up Flower Boy Band_. (Crazy title, excellent drama.) I tried to actually describe it the way it sounds in real life, because I think it really suits Syaoran's persona and voice. If you'd like to hear how it sounds, I recommend YouTubing it and listening to it while you read that scene!

And finally, thank you all _so_ much for the reviews. I always marvel at how many you all send me and how sweet they are. I love hearing what you guys like (and don't like!) about this story, and it really just gives me a new perspective through which I can see my writing, which is both helpful in terms of improvement and my confidence in my abilities.

Happy holidays, everyone. Please leave me a review, and PM me if you have any questions at all!

Love,

boreum dal


	14. i don't belong there

**radio star**

xiv. i don't belong there

"Syaoran?"

"Mizuki," Syaoran said, standing up. He sounded pained, and indeed, the breathlessness of his voice left Sakura with the impression that he didn't have to have fallen off of a swing to lose all the air in his lungs. "What are you doing here?"

As she tried to process what was happening, Sakura found herself reaching into the archives of her brain for what knowledge she had of the relationship between Syaoran and Mizuki Akizawa. Aside from what little Syaoran had mentioned to her about it and what she'd learned through her job, Sakura realized that she didn't know much about their relationship at all.

Since she had started at _Glimmer_, Chiharu had dutifully filled her in on the very basic details—when they'd first been spotted together, when they'd first announced that they were dating, how long they were together, their status as a power couple, and the story of their breakup—but beyond that, Sakura knew nothing. The breakup had been amicable, if she recalled the details correctly, but...

Sakura immediately recognized the look on Syaoran's face as he gaped at Mizuki. It was a curious mixture of fear and resentment with a trace of lingering adoration—and Sakura recognized it because it was the same look she had given Isamu in the moments when she'd seen him after their own breakup. It was the look of a hurt, confused child or an animal wounded by its own master—torn, unsure, and yet, still loyal, still loving, even if reluctantly so. There was no mistaking that expression.

She recalled what Chiharu had told her about "amicable breakups" in the media. _"Usually, they're anything but amicable," _she had said._ "After all, their relationships have an extra layer of complication around them because of their fame. It's only natural that their breakups would be even messier than the average breakup. But what are they supposed to tell the press? That they screamed and swore and threw things at each other before one of them had to move out of their apartment? They like to keep up that facade of perfection. Anything else is a hassle. Think about it, Sakura. 'Amicable' breakups are a lot less likely to start a media frenzy."_

This situation certainly seemed to reflect some of the truth in Chiharu's words, Sakura thought as she looked back and forth between the two figures.

Mizuki wore a look of tentative friendliness on her face, her lips curved into a slight smile and her brows raised. She looked harmless enough, Sakura thought; her eyes were kind, crinkling slightly when she smiled, and the blonde curls gave her a look of angelic innocence. Although she was taller than Sakura, her stature was still small, especially compared to Syaoran, and Sakura was surprised—perhaps childishly so—to see that although Mizuki was a major A-list celebrity, she dressed down in loose jeans, a cropped t-shirt that hung off of her left shoulder, and a red baseball cap. For some reason, Sakura had expected to see a glamorous woman in full makeup wearing designer heels and a skintight dress, if she ever came across an A-list actress.

That said, the casual dress did not take away from the air of celebrity about her: Mizuki Akizawa was pretty, but she was made beautiful in that polished, constantly-groomed way that only celebrities or the extraordinarily wealthy could afford. And as Sakura finally got to see all of this up close, she realized that no matter what exactly had happened between Mizuki and Syaoran, in terms of appearance and beauty, they were truly a match made in heaven.

"I... I didn't think you'd be here," Mizuki murmured, eyes wide, although she didn't seem quite as surprised as Syaoran was.

Syaoran stared at her in silence, and so Mizuki continued, a nervous edge to her voice. "I just kind of missed this place... I'm back from Thailand, and so I thought I'd drop by to see it. I had no intention of imposing on you, Syaoran. I'm sorry."

"Why would you not expect me to be here?" Syaoran responded, his voice flat now. "I pretty much live here. You know that."

Sakura bit her lip as she watched the scene unfold before her. She could feel the crackle of tension between them, and she felt as though if either of them looked at her, she would end up being the one to get electrocuted somehow. Thankfully, she was certain she'd been all but forgotten in the suddenness of their conversation. In this moment, the last thing she wanted was to get involved. But how would she leave unnoticed? She'd have to walk right between them to do so, right in the line of fire.

"Syaoran," Mizuki said softly. "Since I'm here, do you think we could talk?" The smile was gone from her face now, and in its place was a look that Sakura could only describe as remorseful and maybe a little sad.

Syaoran narrowed his eyes. Whatever good will he'd felt towards Mizuki for the kind, surprisingly considerate and self-aware words in her email was rapidly dissipating.

"I've got work," he muttered, although he didn't take his eyes off of her. How could she just come and expect to talk as if nothing was wrong? He hadn't responded to her email for a reason. It was too soon—he wasn't ready to have anything to do with her. And of course, now that she was trying to force her way back in, he was all the more resistant. That was in his nature. She should have known that better than anyone, he thought.

On top of that, in the back of his mind somewhere, he recalled that before her arrival, something important had been transpiring...

_Sakura._

He looked over at Sakura now, and if the situation weren't so jarring and serious, he would have laughed. She looked utterly confused and out of place standing behind him, eyes trained carefully on a nondescript spot on the ceiling and clearly trying to go unnoticed.

Mizuki's eyes followed Syaoran's, and for the first time since she'd arrived in the studio, she seemed to remember that someone else was present in the room with them.

"Syaoran—who is that?"

Despite her discomfort, Sakura stood to introduce herself. Somehow, it felt less intrusive than to have Syaoran introduce her—and perhaps this way, she could make an easy getaway...

"Hi, I'm Sakura Kinomoto," she said, bowing her head to Mizuki. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

"Pleasure," Mizuki replied slowly, a curious smile on her face. Although her expression wasn't unkind, she was looking at Sakura more the way a spectator would view an exhibit at a museum than a human would look at a fellow human. "I'm Mizuki Akizawa."

There was a pause, and Sakura began to gather her bag so she could make her way out. "Well, it was so nice to meet you, and you came just in time—I'm actually just on my way out the door—"

"Ms. Kinomoto, how do you know Syaoran?"

Sakura dropped her bag in surprise.

_A curveball._

She hadn't quite expected Mizuki to ask her any questions, but she figured that she should have known. After all, Sakura was a woman, and she was here with Mizuki's ex-boyfriend... And they'd probably looked awfully cozy as Mizuki had walked in... She felt her face grow hot, and she knew she must have turned red as a beet.

_What am I supposed to say?_

"Mizuki, that's enough!" Syaoran growled, now thoroughly agitated. His eyes were ablaze as he glowered at her. Sakura noticed from behind that one of his hands were clenched into a fist. "Leave. I don't have time to talk to you. I'm working," he repeated.

Clearly hurt, Mizuki widened her eyes and then lowered them. Sakura watched in dismay, feeling more and more by the second like she was witnessing something she had no right to witness. She'd never seen Syaoran's face so dark before.

"Oh—Syaoran, that's okay—I was just going to leave anyway," Sakura said hastily, grabbing her bag again and plastering a smile on her face. Before anyone could make another move or say another word, Sakura made her way across the room and moved past Mizuki.

"It was nice to meet you, Miss Akizawa," Sakura said. She hardly turned to wave at Syaoran. "I'll see you around, Syaoran."

"Sakura, wait—"

But Sakura hurried out the door, her face flushed and hot. As she ran down the hall, everything that had just occurred played back over rapidly in her head. When she finally made it out of the building, she stepped into the warm outdoor air and faced the now-setting sun before leaning against the wall and heaving a sigh.

The whole situation had been strange and uncomfortable, she thought, and it left her with a bad feeling that she couldn't place. Mizuki's quizzical expression, Syaoran's darkened face, the clearly unresolved tension between the two of them—all of it somehow felt even more bizarre than anything she'd experienced up to this point. And unlike her own interactions with Syaoran, seeing this—seeing Mizuki—suddenly made her realize exactly how out of place she was in Syaoran's world.

After letting out a long exhale, she headed towards the bus stop, but the last thing she wanted to do was go home. She fished her phone out of her bag and dialed the number she knew by heart.

"Sakura!" Tomoyo sang from the other line. "What's up?"

"Are you busy right now?" Sakura said as she walked down the street.

"Not particularly. Why?"

"Think you could pick me up? I could use an ear."

* * *

"Syaoran..."

Syaoran stood pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to control his emotions. He could feel Mizuki's eyes on him and hear her voice, but she sounded very far away. It occurred to him that he should have run after Sakura, who was likely very confused. But he was frozen in place, and all he could do was wonder what he was supposed to do next.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and his head jerked up out of his hand. He saw jade eyes staring into his own, perfectly shaped blonde eyebrows furrowed over them in concern.

"Are you all right?"

Syaoran met her eyes, staring silently for a moment, and then he gently took her hand off of his shoulder. He walked over to the corner where his workbag was to gather his things. There was no way he could stay here. He wasn't sure where he'd go, but he suddenly felt a desperate need to get away. "Mizuki... I really think you should leave."

"But I—" Mizuki paused before letting out a sigh, and Syaoran heard her breath catch. "Okay."

He turned to look at her, and his heart broke as he watched her hold back tears, pressing her lips together. His eyes softened, and the desperation inside of his chest seemed to die down ever so slightly.

She nodded, seemingly to herself, and blinked very quickly several times. "Okay. I'll go," she said again, and she forced a smile onto her face. "I'm sorry, Syaoran. I really didn't mean to bother you."

As she turned to leave, Syaoran felt a sinking in his stomach, and it seemed as though there were several voices shouting over each other in his head. He couldn't stand to see her so hurt like that, particularly by his doing. But what about when _he'd_ been miserable because of how she'd ended things with him? Didn't he have every right to let her walk out? But she'd come in peace, another part of him argued, and wasn't he being a little too hostile? What harm would it do to at least just offer her a chance to talk...?

_Don't do it_, he told himself, but he knew it was too late.

"Mizuki."

She turned around to face him, and Syaoran saw that she'd let the tears fall down as soon as she'd turned away—they were streaking her cheeks, leaving faint trails of mascara running down her face.

"Why did you come here?"

Her brows raised in surprise, Mizuki stood frozen in place, even though Syaoran had already asked her once before. Perhaps she realized that this time, he was looking for a true answer.

"You knew I'd be here, didn't you?" Syaoran said quietly, holding her eyes.

Mizuki bit her lip before wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. She shook her head. "I had no way of knowing." She paused. "But I did hope."

And there it was. Even if it wasn't a statement of love, it was confirmation that whatever small shred of hope Syaoran had clung onto for the last few months hadn't been totally unfounded. Things hadn't ended completely where they should have, feelings had been left utterly unresolved, and now, what were they to do?

"Goddamn it," Syaoran muttered, and he fell back into the chair behind him, feeling his heart hammering as the rest of his body suddenly seemed to collapse under the strain. His hand had found its way back to his face again, covering his eyes as he tried not to explode from the intense mixture of emotions.

"Syaoran, I—I'm sorry," Mizuki said, her voice cracking.

He made no move to answer.

"I know—I know I broke your heart," she continued. "But I just can't live with myself knowing that you're in pain—"

He stood back up and suddenly slammed a fist onto the desk beside him, causing Mizuki to jump backwards and let out a squeak. "Do you think I want to hear you _apologize_ to me?" he shouted. "Don't you think it was easier for me to just stay angry at you until I could forget about you altogether? Couldn't you at least do me the favor of letting things die that way?"

"Forget about me?" Mizuki's eyes widened in hurt, her own voice louder now. "You wanted to forget about me?"

"Of course I did! It was the easiest way out!"

"But—at the end, we said we'd be friends—Syaoran, how could you say something like—"

"_BECAUSE AT THE END, I WAS SO DESPERATE FOR YOU NOT TO LEAVE THAT I SAID ANYTHING I COULD TO KEEP YOU FROM DOING IT!_" Syaoran roared, tears filling his own eyes for the first time since it had ended. He refused to let them spill over, but his voice shook as he continued. "I begged you to believe me, Mizuki! I begged you to stay. I told you I'd give anything. And even after all of our years of knowing each other, somehow, it wasn't enough. Somehow, you still threw everything aside."

Mizuki held a hand to her mouth, sobbing now as she watched him stare at her with raw hurt in his eyes and his chest heaving up and down.

He let out a shaky exhale and looked off to the side before willing himself to meet her gaze again. "Mizuki, why the fuck are you here? Why are you doing this to me? What the hell do you want from me that you haven't already taken away?"

"Syaoran, I'm so sorry," she choked out. "I never wanted it to be like this, I wanted to be friends because..."

"Because of _what_, Mizuki? What is it that's driving you to barge back into my life like this?"

"I don't know," Mizuki said, shaking her head as she cried. "I think I still love you, and I don't know what to do..."

Syaoran's brows furrowed, and suddenly, his face was overwhelmingly vulnerable and angry at the same time. "You what?"

"I just don't know what I want... But I still love you, Syaoran, I do," Mizuki sobbed. She looked up and met his eyes. "How could I not? You've been one of my dearest friends for so long, and it's driving me insane because I don't know what to do."

A long period of silence passed, filled only by Mizuki's stifled sobs, until finally, Syaoran let out a long, dejected sigh. "But it wasn't enough, in the end, was it?" he muttered. "In the end, you still left. And I can't forget that."

Mizuki stared at him through tearful eyes, her expression just as pained as his own, and she nodded. "Okay. I'm really sorry," she managed, and she turned around to leave.

This time, Syaoran didn't stop her.

* * *

"_Mizuki Akizawa_?" Tomoyo shouted, her eyes nearly full circles. "Sakura, that's absurd!"

"No kidding," Sakura muttered, glancing down at her hands, which she could not seem to stop wringing. "Try not to crash the car."

"Right," Tomoyo breathed, turning her head back towards the road and gripping the steering wheel more tightly. "Oh, my God." She paused to regain her composure. "So what did he say?"

"He was really angry," Sakura said quietly. "I've never seen him that mad before. He tried to ignore her, and then she asked me who I was and how I knew him, and he got so angry that I could feel it radiating off of him. He told her to leave."

"Did she?"

Sakura shook her head. "I was really uncomfortable... I left first."

Tomoyo scoffed. "And he just let you go?"

"He called after me, but I thought he should stay and talk to her... Anyway, why wouldn't he let me go?" Sakura added to herself, her heart sinking a little as she looked out the window. She didn't expect to feel so melancholy, but it was settling over her very suddenly and very quickly.

"So... Do you think he hates her, then, if he was so angry? What could he possibly have to talk about with her if he's that mad at her?"

"No," Sakura said, her brow furrowing. "I don't think he hates her at all. On the contrary, I think..." She sighed. "I think he's still in love with her."

Tomoyo raised a brow. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Well," Sakura said carefully, "I've never seen him react so strongly to anything. Even if it was a negative reaction, she's still very capable of making him emotional. If he were over it, that wouldn't be true."

"That doesn't mean he's in love with her, though," Tomoyo countered. "Don't you think that's assuming a little too much?"

Sakura shook her head. "No."

Tomoyo frowned as she pulled up to a red light. She looked over at her friend. "Why? What makes you so sure?"

Sakura continued to look out the windshield at the street ahead, refusing to meet Tomoyo's eyes. "Because I saw the look on his face, and it was the same one I used to wear when I would see Isamu."

Tomoyo bit her lip. "Oh, Sakura..."

Sakura turned to Tomoyo, startled as though she'd been woken from a trance. She plastered a smile on her face. "But it's fine. I hope they work things out. I really do. He deserves to be happy. I feel like he's such a lonely person."

"Sakura," Tomoyo said softly, "You know you can be honest with me."

"What?" Sakura responded, laughing, although it sounded forced. "I'm fine. Really, it has nothing to do with me at all."

"It has everything to do with you."

Sakura shook her head, and the smile faded from her face as she shut her eyes and leaned her head against the window. "It can't."

Tomoyo pulled into Sakura's parking lot and put the car into park before turning to her friend. She could see how shaken Sakura actually was, even as she tried her hardest to hide it. "You really like him, don't you?" Tomoyo asked.

Sakura paused for a long moment before nodding once. "I do," she breathed.

"So how do you really feel about it, then?"

Sakura pressed her lips together, thinking carefully before she spoke. "It's true, what I said. I do want him to be happy. But if I'm being really honest," she said in a low voice, "I don't want her to be the one to make him happy. I don't want to admit it... It's so silly. But... I want it to be me. I wish I could make him happy."

She glanced down at her hands and picked at her fingers before letting out a sigh. "I can't, though."

Tomoyo raised her eyebrows. "What? Why?"

"Because he's _him_," Sakura replied, her voice slightly incredulous, as though she thought Tomoyo should have known.

"But you're the one who was saying that celebrities aren't any different from us," Tomoyo said, frowning. "You guys are friends—you _do_ make him happy! It shouldn't matter that he's famous."

"It was naïve of me to say those things," Sakura mumbled.

"Sakura, what's gotten into you? What's made you like this all of a sudden?"

Sakura folded her hands in her lap in a conscious effort to stop wringing them, and then she finally looked over at Tomoyo. "It's not over between them. And honestly, after today, I really know..." She let out a shaky sigh. "I know I don't belong in their world. He's hers in more than one way. I don't belong there between them."

Tomoyo didn't know what to say in response, shocked at how defeated Sakura seemed.

"When she asked me how I knew him, Tomoyo," Sakura continued, "what was I supposed to say? That I'm a loser paparazzo and that I didn't even want this job, that I didn't know who he was and that we became friends because he felt sorry for him? And now, through some ridiculous twist of events, I've fallen for him?" She laughed mirthlessly.

"Sakura, that's not what happened—"

"But when it comes down to it, it is," Sakura responded, and now she had to look away again, because her eyes were beginning to water. "I feel so pathetic, like I'm following this famous person around like a little lost puppy when his beautiful ex-girlfriend is just around the corner. I don't belong in that world, Tomoyo," she said, and she wiped tears as they fell from her eyes.

Tomoyo reached over to pull Sakura into a hug, and Sakura began to cry into Tomoyo's shoulder in earnest. "It was difficult, wasn't it? You really did want this, even when you kept telling yourself you didn't."

Sakura nodded through her tears.

"I don't care who he is, Sakura—you deserve any guy you set your sights on. You're the most amazing person I know. You're a lot more than most people could ever ask for," Tomoyo murmured sincerely.

After some time, Sakura pulled away, letting out a long exhale and wiping away tears. "Thanks," she said, managing to pull on a smile. "I think I'm just really tired... I really overreacted, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't," Tomoyo said. "You reacted like anyone would."

"Well, I guess there's only one thing left to do at this point."

"What's that?"

"I have to quit my job."

Tomoyo's eyes widened. "What? Why?"

"Because I didn't realize how invested I was in this until I realized something could pull it away from me. Tomoyo, I'm way too deep in for this to be any kind of ethical. It wasn't ethical from the start."

"But that doesn't mean—I mean, what will you do for work?"

Sakura sighed. "I guess I'll go job-hunting and hopefully get a desk job somewhere until I can do interviews again next year." She shrugged. "I liked the people there a lot. Chiharu and Yamazaki were really good to me. And of course I liked being around Syaoran," she said softly, "but this wasn't ever a real job in the first place. I kept this going for too long."

Tomoyo looked crestfallen. "Sakura..."

"It's okay," Sakura said. "It really is better this way. I'd be so guilt-ridden if I kept this up. And I'd just feel pathetic around Syaoran. I can't do that anymore."

Tomoyo bit her lip, and then she nodded. "I guess that makes sense. Okay. Well, keep me updated. And please, for the love of God, let me know if you need any help with anything."

"I will."

Tomoyo gave her a stern look. "I mean it."

Sakura laughed. "Okay. I will! I promise."

* * *

Syaoran lay in the darkness of his room, absolutely certain that he would not fall asleep tonight. He had dialed Mizuki's number into his phone countless times since that afternoon, but he'd never ended up calling her. What would he even say? That he still loved her, too? He scoffed to himself.

It was strange, he thought. She had offered him something he'd wanted from her for months on a silver platter. He suspected that if he'd asked her to work things out right then and there, she wouldn't have fought very hard. It was not irrational to think that they could have walked out of the studio a couple again.

And yet, he'd turned her away. It pained him to have hurt her so much in the process, but he remembered distinctly feeling that it was something he had to do. Why?

Syaoran would have been lying if he denied that some small, sick part of him relished in being able to hurt Mizuki the way she'd hurt him before. But in the end, that wasn't it. In the end, he did want her to be happy. There was something else.

He'd wanted to do one particular thing all day since Mizuki had left the studio. He had resisted up to this point, but in the night, his will seemed to have diminished. Sighing, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his phone. It was a little late to call, he realized. Still lying on his back, he held the phone over his face, its glow making him squint slightly in the darkness.

_I'm sorry about earlier_, he tapped into a text message. He hesitated, and then he added, _I wish I could see you._

He hit "send," and using his last bit of willpower, he turned the phone off for the night and buried his head under his pillow, drifting—despite his earlier conviction that he wouldn't—quickly off to sleep.

* * *

"Sakura, why are you so early today? It's only eight in the morning! Not that I'm not happy to see you," Yamazaki added, grinning cheerfully as he leaned back in his chair.

Sakura smiled as she sat down across the desk from him. "I, uh... I was wondering if you had a moment to talk."

"Sure," Yamazaki said, and he sensed her apprehension immediately. "Is everything all right?" he asked, concerned now.

Sakura nodded, but she felt her eyes water as she saw the kindness in his eyes. She glanced down quickly so he wouldn't see, and she placed an envelope on his desk.

Yamazaki stared at it for a moment, brows raised in surprise. Stamped onto the envelope were the words "Letter of Resignation."

"Sakura, what is this? Why all of a sudden?" His voice was still kind, although curious.

Sakura held her breath, and then she met his eyes. "I have something to tell you about all of those photographs I've taken, Yamazaki."

* * *

Syaoran awoke to a loud knocking noise, and he opened one eye to see that it was morning. Meiling's voice trailed through the room from the other side of the door.

"Syaoran, why is your phone off? Open the door right now!"

Syaoran groaned as he sat up and grabbed a shirt draped over his desk chair nearby, pulling it on as he walked to the door to open it.

"What?" he muttered, yawning as he scratched his head. "What's the big deal? And why didn't you wait for me to open the door for you? You can't just come breaking in here all the time."

"You left your phone off, so I couldn't call to wake you up, you idiot," Meiling growled. "What's the point of giving me a spare key if you don't expect me to use it?"

"Yeah, yeah. What's up? Am I late for something? I thought the first half of the day was free."

"It is. But we've got a problem."

"What is it?"

"I need you to be very honest with me," Meiling said, looking Syaoran right in the eyes. "Syaoran, the tabloids have photographs of Mizuki leaving the studio yesterday. Were you there?"

* * *

That's it for now! My God, this was a tough chapter to write. I ran into writing blocks in the middle of paragraphs—sometimes sentences, even—so it might be a bit of a mess. Because it was the first really dramatic, expositional chapter in a while, I'm lacking a bit of confidence in it, to be quite honest, haha. Regardless, I hope you guys enjoyed it. There's not a whole lot of interaction between Sakura and Syaoran in this one, I know, but in the next chapter, there should be plenty to go around! And I do want to apologize for having multiple (three, if I counted correctly) cliffhangers in this chapter, but that means next chapter's pacing will be much quicker!

Thanks for all of your support up until now! The reviews from the last chapter were _so_ nice. You are all amazing. I hope you continue to leave reviews! I'm very curious as to what you all think of Mizuki and Syaoran's interaction with her. The fight between them was particularly difficult to write. I hope it was as convincing and moving on paper as it was in my head, haha.

Anyway, the next chapter is still in the planning stages, but I'm always thinking and always writing bit by bit, so it should be up soon! Thank you so much for reading, and please review! Happy New Year!

Love,

boreum dal


	15. continuation

**radio star**

xv. continuation

"I have something to tell you about all of those photographs I've taken, Yamazaki," Sakura said, steeling herself.

"What is it?" Yamazaki asked, eyebrows raised pleasantly. Sakura wished for some reason that he could look a bit angry with her, but she was beginning to realize that it was virtually impossible to make him mad. The thought should have comforted her, but it didn't.

"Well... I'm not sure if it sounds very believable," she said, swallowing, "but those photos I took were staged. You see—I made friends with Syaoran Li, and so he let me take them—"

"Wait, _what_?"

"I know," Sakura said, lowering her eyes, and she began to ramble. "I'm really sorry. I know it was a horrible thing to do, but this stalking people and taking their pictures is so very out of my comfort zone when it's not for...I don't know, _crisis coverage_ or something I'm more accustomed to, and—"

"No, no, the other thing!" Yamazaki said, raising his voice, but Sakura realized that it was not in anger, but rather in _excitement_. Yamazaki was actually eager to hear what she had to say next, leaning forward in his seat. "How did you manage something like that? He's such a private person!"

Sakura had to let out a strangled laugh, although she couldn't tell if it was with exasperation or relief. "Honestly, I'm really not sure. I just...asked to take his picture one day, and one thing led to another..."

"You _asked_ to take his picture?" Yamazaki threw his head back and howled with laughter.

Sakura furrowed her brow. "Was that wrong?"

"It's just not very normal, as far as paparazzi go," Yamazaki managed to respond, wiping tears from his eyes. He looked at Sakura with what seemed like fondness. "Only you could get away with something like that, really."

"Ah... Thank you, I think," Sakura responded, unsure of how to feel.

Yamazaki sighed, staring at her resignation letter. "Well, I can't say you didn't break protocol," he said, the smile still on his lips, a little rueful now, "but I also can't say I'm angry at you. If I'd been in your shoes and I had that opportunity, I'd have done the same thing."

Sakura looked at her hands, which were folded tightly in her lap. "So you're not mad?"

Yamazaki shook his head. "No. I'm sad to see you go, in fact. I guess I couldn't let you continue to do what you were doing, but those really were some great pictures," he said wistfully. He smiled at her. "You did work really hard while you were here. There's no denying that. I'm really grateful to you, Sakura."

Sakura felt her eyes water a bit. "I'm really grateful, too," she said, lowering her head. "This job really turned my life around." _In more ways than one_.

"Well, what do you think you'll do next?"

Sakura shook her head. "I'm really not sure... I'll have to look for a desk job for a while and apply to other publications while I'm at it."

"Well, I know you didn't work the full year I wanted you to, but I could put in a few calls—"

"Oh, you really don't have to do that," Sakura said, raising her hands. "I didn't even hold up my end of the deal, it'd be so unfair—"

"It's really all right," Yamazaki said, eyes kind. "It was so nice to have you here. Don't worry about it. I'll see what I can do."

Sakura bit her lip, but then she nodded. "Thank you," she said earnestly. She stood to go. "I promise I'll keep in touch."

Yamazaki grinned. "Well, this is a little unprofessional, but since you've resigned, I can't send you off with nothing." He stood up from his chair and walked around the desk to give her a warm hug. "We'll miss you here."

"I'll miss you, too," Sakura responded, and she meant it. She'd made friends in this strange place, made a life here in these last few months. Syaoran aside, she really would miss the people, her little cubicle, her lunch dates with Chiharu.

Sighing shakily, she turned to go. "I'll leave my camera and my passes on my desk. I'm gonna leave before Chiharu gets here... It'll be tough to say goodbye."

Yamazaki waved a hand. "Don't speak that kind of nonsense! Chiharu will still want to hang out with you even if you're not officemates anymore." He grinned. "And I'll sneak along sometimes, too."

Sakura felt the corners of her lips tilt up once more. She really would be sad to leave. "Thanks, Yamazaki. For everything."

* * *

Syaoran stared at Meiling, his jaw hanging slightly open. "What?"

"It's all over the tabloids," Meiling said grimly, pulling a stack of various magazines out of her bag and handing them to Syaoran. Sure enough, photos of Mizuki leaving the studio clearly looking distressed appeared on the covers, with bold headlines speculating as to what she had been doing at Syaoran's studio and why she looked so upset.

"So, I'm going to ask you again," Meiling said, eyes soft but voice firm, "were you there yesterday?"

He set the magazines down on his bedside and let out a sigh, leaning against his dresser. "Yeah, I was."

"Syaoran, why the hell did you not tell me this?" she responded, exasperated. Meiling walked over to his bed and smoothed the covers over before sitting down on it.

"I wasn't expecting a media frenzy already," he said simply, running a hand through his hair and down his neck before running it back up again.

"You didn't _expect_ it? Syaoran, have you learned nothing? It was the first thing you should've expected!"

"Meiling," Syaoran said, the exasperation in his own voice matching hers now. "I said I didn't expect one _already_. I knew it'd come eventually. I just didn't expect the paparazzi to be out there. They've been laying off the studio lately... I think they prefer to get me at grocery stores nowadays," he muttered wryly. "And I sure as hell didn't expect a less-than-twelve-hour turnaround time on this whole mess."

He frowned to himself. He wondered if any of them had seen Sakura, but he assumed not, since she wasn't in any of the tabloid photos. And even if she were, they likely would have assumed she was a producer or someone involved in the album.

"Well, what _did_ you expect, then? Everything that's happened in the last year should have taught you to brace for the worst, always!"

Syaoran scoffed. "That sounds like a pretty horrible way to live." He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look. I was going to tell you today. I thought I'd have some time to think about it. I wasn't worried about paparazzi or the media because there were other things going on, Meiling. She left looking upset because we fought—we were screaming at each other. I didn't feel like I should make her stay."

At that, Meiling softened. "Okay, okay." She lay back on the bed and groaned. "You're right. I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "I'm sorry for not telling you, too. It wasn't the most professional decision to keep that a secret from you, even if it was just for a day."

Meiling felt herself smile a little. It was unlike Syaoran to apologize so quickly, but he'd done it several times lately. Even in moments of duress, she could see that he'd grown quite a bit. She sat up. "It's okay. You're right, there was little reason to expect them to be out there... They must have seen her car or something. But don't worry—it's nothing we can't control. Fortunately, it seems the paparazzi left after Mizuki did to follow her, and I guess you stayed at the studio so late that no one stuck around to catch you leaving."

"Yeah, I was in there till one in the morning."

Meiling raised a brow. "Doing what?"

"Writing," he responded, and then he shrugged. "Thinking."

She pursed her lips. His face was carefully blank, but she saw the bags under his eyes and realized how tired he looked. "Are you _really_ okay?"

He sighed. "It was pretty exhausting," he admitted, staring at a blank spot on the wall. "But I'll be okay. I want to fix this."

Meiling nodded. "Okay. Well, go wash up and get dressed. We need to get this figured out. We're going to my office, and you can tell me what happened, and we can make a plan. We should probably call Matsura, too. I'll treat you to coffee on the way."

Syaoran hoisted himself up off of his bed, and with a nod, he walked into his bathroom and shut the door. Leaning his hands on the counter, he looked into the mirror with a frown. He felt a familiarly unpleasant churning in his stomach, an anxiety he hadn't felt so fully in a while. He could feel a storm brewing. Mizuki had returned, had cracked open the door, and all of a sudden, he felt like the potential for chaos had never been higher.

Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. He wouldn't let that happen—not this time. Because unlike before, he knew enough to protect himself, and he also wanted to protect people other than himself. That was more than enough for him.

* * *

"So you really quit, huh?"

Sakura nodded, taking a big gulp of milk from her cereal bowl and setting it down to spoon some more cereal into her mouth.

"Slow down, you're going to choke on your food," Tomoyo said, handing Sakura a napkin across the table.

The two were at breakfast at the old diner where Sakura had worked. Because she was still close with the manager, they got discounts on their meals quite frequently.

"Are you sad?" Tomoyo asked, poking around at her pancakes with her fork.

"A little," Sakura admitted. "I'm going to miss everyone I worked with, especially Chiharu. But it's also a bit of a relief. Snooping around like that all the time got to be really stressful. I'm honestly shocked no one ever caught on."

Tomoyo nodded. "What about Syaoran?"

Sakura stared at her bowl of cereal, absentmindedly puffing her cheeks up and then letting out a long exhale. "What about him?"

"You know. Are you ever going to see him again?"

"Oh, I don't know." She felt her phone in her pocket now, remembering... "He texted me last night."

Tomoyo's eyes widened. "What did he say?"

Sakura fished out her phone and tapped through the screen to find the message before handing the phone to Tomoyo silently.

Tomoyo scanned the text and her eyes quickly grew even bigger. "Sakura," she whispered, but Sakura could tell that the whisper was going to lead to something exponentially louder.

"Don't scream," Sakura begged. "Everyone's going to look!"

Tomoyo opened her mouth, then shut it. "Fine," she hissed. "Sakura, you can't just cut things off with him now! He said he wished he could _see _you!"

"Yeah, but I just quit my job. That publicity deal was what kept us meeting each other, remember?"

"Hardly. If he were that worried about his publicity, he'd have made deals with paparazzi from more prominent tabloids—no offense," Tomoyo added.

"None taken," Sakura said, a smile curving her lips slightly upward.

"Anyway, I'm not convinced. He said he wanted to _see_ you, not meet you so he can get photographed. He's one of the most powerful stars on the continent. He could get his photograph from anyone he pleases. I think there's a lot more to it, Sakura."

"Yeah, well... I don't know what to think about it," Sakura muttered, taking the phone back.

"You don't know what to think about it?" Tomoyo said incredulously. "Here's what you should think: his gorgeous ex-girlfriend came and caused a scene in the studio while you were there, also happened to cause a scene leaving with the hundreds of paparazzi who got photos of her last night, and yet in the middle of all of this drama, Syaoran Li wishes he could see _you_, not her! Does that not mean anything to you?"

Sakura shook her head. "He could've sent her the same thing... I don't know."

"Don't make up excuses!" Tomoyo said. "Is he the kind of guy who would do that?"

Sakura pursed her lips. "No, he wouldn't," she finally admitted. "But I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. Where this is going. Where I want it to go and where it won't go," she said. She stared down at her cereal, but suddenly, she wasn't hungry anymore.

"Sakura," Tomoyo said gently. "Believe in yourself. Just because you're not a famous celebrity doesn't mean someone who is can't fall for you. You might not have piles of money or an on-call stylist, but you're obviously amazing."

Sakura snorted. "'Obviously'?"

Tomoyo grinned. "Syaoran Li seems to think so."

"Oh, I don't know," Sakura repeated. "I just don't want to get my hopes up, you know?"

"Well, I understand that. But if you muster up the courage, I'd say text him back. And now," Tomoyo said grandly, "I have an announcement!"

Sakura raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"I got the job at MIA!" Tomoyo squealed.

Sakura's eyes widened. "Tomoyo! That's amazing, congratulations!" She laughed and shook her head. "I never doubted you, but that's still such a great surprise!"

Tomoyo laughed. "Thank you! I'm so relieved that my future is starting to come together."

Sakura grinned as she took a sip of her coffee. "Well, that makes one of us."

"No way! We're going to find you another job, a really great one, pronto. And as for other things in your future—tonight, we're going out to get drinks, on me. _And_ you're coming over to my place to get ready, and I get to dress you up."

"Okay," Sakura said, nodding. "That's doable."

"And one more thing," Tomoyo continued. "You're going to text Syaoran back. No buts about it."

* * *

"Okay, I just got off the phone with Mizuki's rep," Meiling announced, striding back into her office and shutting the door. "She doesn't think it's necessary yet to meet in person and devise anything elaborate. For now, she says it'd be good to spin this into good PR for both of you."

"And how exactly do we do that?" Syaoran said, raising an eyebrow and raising his coffee to his lips. He grimaced. He only ever drank it black, but he wasn't sure why—he hated the way it tasted.

Meiling sat at her desk and began clacking away at her keyboard. "It's a little flimsy, but it's a situation where people are going to believe what they want to believe, so flimsy is okay."

She paused to type out some more, and Syaoran glanced over to see that she was writing a draft of a press release.

Meiling peered over the screen for a moment, eyes squinted, and then nodded to herself before turning to him. "We said before that you'd remain friends, and this just proves it. Mizuki was visiting the studio to say hello after her return from her trip to Thailand. You were busy recording all day, so you didn't leave with her."

"What about her looking upset? How are you going to explain that?"

Meiling shrugged. "It's not like she was crying or had mascara running down her face. She could have been surprised or annoyed by the photographers."

"Ah. That makes sense... I guess it's better to leave that unexplained."

"Exactly. You don't want to fill in blanks where it's not necessary." She turned back to her computer and continued to type. "You know, this might be a blessing in disguise. The media will definitely speculate about this for a little while, but if you keep up a pretense of friendship, they'll get bored when they realize there's no potential scandal there and lay off of your relationship with her."

"Right," he responded, although he wasn't sure how he'd go about keeping up a pretense of friendship when he apparently couldn't even handle an hour with her in the same room.

"Now," Meiling said, almost as if reading his mind, "I know that's going to be tough for you, but Mizuki's rep also thinks it'd be a great idea. It's a bit of a gamble, but in the long run, it could really pay off. So just hear me out on this," she said, turning around to face him.

Syaoran raised his brows at her, wondering what exactly what was about to come out of her mouth next. She looked nervous; Meiling, to his understanding, never got nervous.

She drew in a breath. "Okay. There's a promotional event that you're both scheduled to attend in two weeks. You don't even have to pose together, but if you just crossed paths and waved a friendly hello to each other, spoke a few words in front of the reporters to play up the friendship—"

"Absolutely not," Syaoran said, shaking his head.

"Syaoran—"

"Meiling, I'm not going to put on a show for these people. They already know enough about my life that I don't want them to know."

"But this wouldn't be a real aspect of your life. You'd be feeding them a story so that they'll leave you alone for a little while. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I do, but not like this. Why should I even bother? Like you said, we shouldn't be filling in the blanks where it's not necessary, even if it's with something that isn't real."

Meiling paused for a moment before responding. "Okay. Well, that's definitely tough to argue with..." She sighed. "I guess I can't try to push it too hard, can I?"

"I don't want to make things difficult for you," Syaoran said, running a hand through his hair, "but I just don't think I can do that. Not right now. Give me some time."

Meiling pressed her lips together, but she nodded. "Okay." She looked off to the side, and then she had to smile. "Thanks for not giving me a flat-out no."

Syaoran smirked. "I've already given you enough reasons to pummel me lately. I don't need to give you any more."

Meiling threw her head back and laughed. "That's very smart of you." She leaned back in her chair. "Speaking of reasons to pummel you, though... How's it going with your little paparazzo friend?"

"Ah," Syaoran said, suddenly reaching into his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and frowned to see that he had seven new text messages and a slew of emails, none of them from Sakura. "She was there yesterday."

Meiling's eyes widened. "When Mizuki was there?"

"Yeah. I'd asked her if she wanted to come by the studio since I was alone, and Mizuki came unannounced an hour or so later."

"How did _that_ go?"

Syaoran ran a hand through his hair. "I think she felt really awkward. I don't blame her. Mizuki started asking her questions, and she bolted pretty quickly."

Meiling snorted. "It's a little rich of her to be asking your friend anything, don't you think?"

Syaoran laughed. "Yeah, it was out of line... I can't say I didn't get irritated at that. But she's always been that way, just a little."

"So... With Mizuki back in the picture... Well, _is_ she back in the picture?"

Syaoran shook his head. "I don't know. There's no telling with her. Honestly, I'm really confused about everything these days. And Sakura... I mean, you know, she's so different—but I really do..." He trailed off before he glanced down at his hands and exhaled softly. "I think things are going to get pretty complicated, Meiling."

"Well," Meiling said, tilting her head back, "I suppose that can't be helped. That's why you've got me. Just try to minimize the damage, would you? I can only handle so many curveballs, even if I am me."

Syaoran chuckled. In situations like these, he found himself feeling extremely grateful that Meiling had chosen to stick by his side not just as his friend and kin, but also professionally. "Of course."

* * *

Sakura glanced around the club over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of her drink. A pleasant buzz pervaded her system, but it still did not seem to be enough to draw her out of herself. Clubs had never particularly been her scene; although she was perfectly fine socializing at the bar, she had decided to sit back and watch Tomoyo and their friends dance on the floor rather than joining them.

They were in an upscale club in a popular part of Tokyo for young people, and Tomoyo had invited several of their mutual friends and some of her colleagues from internships and college out to meet up. As the music bumped loudly through the speakers, Sakura couldn't decide if she would have enjoyed herself more at home alone. She was happy she was around people, but what was the point when she wasn't actually speaking to any of them? She sighed, deciding that she'd finish her drink and join her friends soon. Hopefully, that would get her mind off of her job, and perhaps off of Syaoran, whom she had yet to contact that day.

Tomoyo wandered over, skin glistening and eyes sparkling as she held a bill out to the bartender and ordered two shots. "Sakura, you need to come out and dance with us!"

The shots came, and before Sakura could protest, Tomoyo shoved one at Sakura, who clinked her shot glass against Tomoyo's feebly before downing it and grimacing.

"Just give me a few more minutes to loosen up—God, Tomoyo, what _was_ that? It was awful!"

"It's called a firebomb," Tomoyo said, grinning. "It should hit you pretty soon. Come dance! There are so many gorgeous men on the floor right now. And speaking of gorgeous men—have you texted Syaoran back?"

Sakura bit her lip. "No, not yet. I was going to wait on that, too."

"Well, you can't do it when you're too drunk!" Tomoyo said, grabbing Sakura's phone out of her purse and handing it to her. "Do it now, and then come out and dance with me."

Sakura swallowed. Tomoyo was right, at least on the timing of the text; if she wanted to text him back, it would have to be sooner rather than later. She could already feel her mind swimming hazily as the last shot rushed through her head.

"What should I say?"

"Well, if it were me, I'd just say 'I wish I could see you, too,'" Tomoyo laughed. "But I know we're a bit different, so... why don't you just say a casual 'Hello'?"

"That's it? Just 'hello'?"

Tomoyo nodded. "He'll respond. I promise."

Sakura looked down at the screen of her phone, tapping out a "Hello," then deleting it and opting for a "Hi." Before she could stop herself, she hit the send button and buried her phone in her purse.

"Good girl! Now finish your drink and come on!"

Sakura nodded and downed her drink, aware that she would become fairly intoxicated in about twenty minutes. Grinning slightly at the thought, she followed Tomoyo to the dance floor, and ushered into a group of her friends, she felt her hips moving along to the music almost instantly.

* * *

Syaoran frowned as he glanced at the clock. It read two in the morning.

_This is ridiculous. You should just go to sleep already._

But he knew from experience that he would lie fruitlessly in bed until the sun rose, because when he was curious or anxious about anything, his mind raced at an irritatingly fast pace and refused to slow down, and sleep never came in those times.

Although Syaoran had had a busy day, since his morning was cut off by Mizuki's tabloid appearance and the end half of his day had been filled with meetings with producers and plans for his next media appearances, the text message he'd sent Sakura—the one to which she had not yet responded—had weighed heavily in the back of his mind. On top of that, the episode with Mizuki had left him more hurt and confused than he'd have liked to admit. As a result, between the two matters, he'd ended the day exhausted and somewhat down, worse than he'd felt in a while.

So it was much to his relief that a text came from her around midnight, but it was confusingly noncommittal and was not technically a response to his own text—it had just been a simple _"Hi_."

Perplexed and amused all at once, he'd responded by asking what she'd done all day... And now, two hours later, he had no response.

He sighed, lying back on his couch.

She wasn't playing hard-to-get, was she?

Syaoran immediately snorted at the thought. Sakura wasn't the type to do that. And even if she wanted to, he thought amusedly, she'd be horrible at it.

_And more importantly_, a voice said inside his head, _why would she play hard-to-get? Why are you making more out of this than it is?_

Before he could try to answer that question, he heard his phone notify him of a text, and he reached over to grab his phone and see who it was, letting out an exhale when he saw that Sakura had texted him back.

Syaoran smirked as his eyes scanned the text. She was obviously drunk, words misspelled here and there, although it was clear by the tone that she was trying to keep up a normal, sober front.

_Oh, not muhc_, it read. _But kinda an unusual day. YoU?_

_Unusual how? _He texted back. _Because you're drunk? And it was kind of busy. Lots of work. _

A minute later, a response came: _I'm not drujnk._

Syaoran laughed, and as he typed out a response, another came before he could send his.

_Okay Im kind of drunk. Tomoyo wsnted me to come to the club celebrate her neew job._

Syaoran revised his previously typed-out response. _Well, what are you doing sitting around and texting me? You should be celebrating._

Feeling a little more at ease, he decided he could at least get ready for bed now. He tried to ignore how stupid it was that he could rest easy only now, now that he knew his text from the previous night had not gone ignored. He set his phone on the nightstand when he reached his room and headed into his restroom for a quick shower.

When he came back out and sat on his bed, rubbing a towel through his hair, he picked up his phone and raised his eyebrows to see that he had not just one, but rather four new texts from Sakura. He laughed before opening them. Although they'd never really discussed their drinking habits, he could imagine that she probably didn't enjoy clubs very much and envisioned her sitting at the bar, glued to her phone.

_Taking a breajk from danfing, my feet hurt._

His grin slowly faded into a frown as he read the next three.

_I lost Tomoo, not sure where she went._

_Are yiu still awake?_

_There's this guuy who keeps trying to talk to me and folows me around. I s that weird? I ftold him to leave me alone anf I feel bad._

Syaoran looked at the time Sakura had sent the last text. It had only been five minutes ago. He wondered if he'd found her friend yet. She was definitely drunker than he'd thought she was.

_Sorry, I was in the shower_, he typed out. _Did you find Tomoyo? _

He lay back in his bed and waited for a response, but after ten minutes had passed without one, he frowned as he texted her again.

_Is everything okay?_

He was probably overreacting, he thought, but he couldn't help the way his stomach seemed to twist as he waited for a response. Sakura didn't seem like the type to get herself into troublesome situations by any means, but Syaoran had been to enough clubs with Mizuki and Meiling to know how aggressive some of the male patrons there could be. If she was alone, he imagined that she'd have a difficult time fending for herself, particularly when so drunk.

After five more minutes, Syaoran groaned and sat up, deciding to call her. As he held the phone to his ear, he prayed for her to pick up, nearly shouting in relief when she did.

"Syaoran," she said into the phone, voice slightly slurring. Although the background noise was definitely still the dissonant chatter and music of a club, Syaoran realized she must have stepped outside, because it was very muted.

"Hey, is everything all right?" he asked. "Where are your friends? Who's following you around?"

"Um—sorry," she said, her voice high-pitched. "Sorry to make you worry."

Syaoran sighed. "No, you're okay," he said, slowing down. "But did you find your friends?"

"Yeah, Tomoyo just texted me and said she's coming—that she's coming to find me, so I'm standing outside the club to wait for her, and then she said... Um... That we're—we're going back inside together to find everyone else."

"Okay," Syaoran breathed, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen a bit. That was good, at least. "Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until she finds you?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!" Sakura said, and Syaoran wanted to laugh despite the situation at hand; sober Sakura would be quite embarrassed of her drunken alter ego's extreme enthusiasm, he thought.

"Now, Sakura," he said carefully, "what's this about a guy following you around?"

"Oh," Sakura said, and her voice dropped low, so that Syaoran could barely hear her. "Yeah, this guy... I—he told me that he wanted to buy me a drink—and I said—I told him that's okay. And he said okay but he kept following me around the club while I looked for Tomoyo, and I asked him to stop doing that and now I think he's angry with me—because—because now he's outside here, too, and I can see him kind of looking at me sometimes. I feel bad."

_Shit_, Syaoran thought. It could have been nothing to worry about, but Sakura _sober_ was already a bit too naïve and unassuming for her own good, and he could tell it was that much worse when she was drunk.

"Has he been out there with you this whole time?" Syaoran asked, rising up out of bed.

"Uh-huh."

"Has he said anything to you?"

"No, just looking over. Maybe I should go ask him why he's outside?"

"No, no, Sakura, just stay where you are, talk to me," Syaoran said hurriedly. "Is he alone?"

"Yeah—"

"Sakura!" Syaoran heard another girl's voice cut in from the background.

"Hey!" Sakura said in response, and Syaoran listened to them chatter for a moment, realizing Tomoyo had found Sakura. She also sounded far more sober than Sakura did.

"Hey, Sakura, could you hand the phone to your friend for a moment for me?" Syaoran said.

"Oh, sure!" Sakura chirped, and Syaoran heard the rattle of the phone being handed off.

"Hello?" said another girl's voice, sounding confused.

"Hi, er, Tomoyo?"

"Y-yes, this is she."

"Hey, this is Syaoran, I'm a friend of Sakura's. I just wanted to make sure—"

"Syaoran _Li_?"

"Ah..." Syaoran scratched his head. "Yeah, Syaoran Li."

"Oh my God," he heard her breathe, and he knew instantly that he had to stop her from getting too excited so he could assess the situation in time.

"Hey, Tomoyo, I'm really pleased to meet you, Sakura's told me a lot about you—but I need your help."

"Oh, uh—yeah, of course," she said, sounding startled at the urgency of his voice. "What is it?"

He explained the situation and his suspicions about the man Sakura had mentioned, and Tomoyo, who had also spotted the man outside the club and thought him an odd figure—particularly because of the way he'd been looking at Sakura, she told Syaoran—sobered up even more and seemed to instantly forget about Syaoran's celebrity.

"How drunk exactly is Sakura?"

"Ah... She's pretty far gone," Tomoyo said sheepishly. "I might have given her too many shots. She's fine, but we should probably go home."

"Are you with other people now?"

"We were here with some of my friends, but I don't know what happened to them—I think they might have gone home after they lost me, so it might just be Sakura and me now."

"Okay," Syaoran said, going over the situation in his head. "Okay, what club are you at?"

"Purple Stripe."

_Ah._ He knew that one particularly well; around the time of its opening, Mizuki had made herself a frequent patron and brought Syaoran along regularly, and much of their relationship had been captured on cameras there. It would be a bit risky, he thought, to drive over there and pick up Sakura and her friend as he wanted to do, as paparazzi still hung around that area. But he lived close by, and he didn't want them waiting on a cab when an odd stranger was eyeing them.

"Tell you what," Syaoran said. "Take Sakura back into the club, get her a glass of water. If that guy follows you, tell one of the bouncers. Stay around a lot of people. I'm going to come get you guys, so keep her phone on you and come out when I call."

"You're—you're coming to _get _us?"

"Yeah, I really don't like the way that guy sounds. I can pick you guys up and drop you off. Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah, that's totally fine," Tomoyo said. "Thank you so much."

"Not a problem. I'm leaving now. Head inside, and call if you have any problems."

"Of course. Thanks again!" Tomoyo said before ending the call.

And with that, Syaoran threw on a sweatshirt, grabbed his keys, and shoved a baseball cap on over his head before throwing his hood up and running out to his car.

* * *

That's it for now! Syaoran to the rescue! Kind of, haha. Are Sakura and Tomoyo in any immediate danger? Not the worst, but the guy following them around is still a huge creep, and Syaoran seems to be quite the protective type, huh?

I always feel this way about a chapter when I'm posting it, but I'm a little uncertain of the pacing, so I apologize if it seemed too quick—or, conversely, way too slow. I thought this chapter would be all action when I wrote it, but a lot of it ended up being exposition, foreshadowing, all of that good stuff—mostly a chapter to set up other chapters. I just feel like there's so much dialogue and explanation, so I apologize if the chapter wasn't the most fun. :( Next chapter will have a lot of interaction between Syaoran and Sakura, though, so look out for that! And I actually have most of it planned out, so hopefully, an update will come more quickly.

I am sorry this chapter took so long to update, but thank you all for the lovely reviews! Your response to the last chapter was very sweet. I never fail to feel amazed at how kind and enthusiastic you all are. It really makes my day. (My life, even.)

Thank you all, love you, and please leave a review!

Love,

boreum dal


	16. push

**radio star**

xvi. push

Tomoyo glanced behind her as she waited for the bartender to bring her two glasses of water. Sakura sat beside her, hazy-eyed and talking a mile a minute.

"I'm really glad you got to talk to Syaoran, Tomoyo! Isn't he so nice?"

"Uh huh," Tomoyo said distractedly, nodding as she searched the crowd for the strange man she'd seen outside. It was weird that he was even here, Tomoyo thought, as he looked middle-aged and seemed a bit old to be in this club. There was no age cutoff, but most people here were in their twenties, and at the oldest, their early thirties. Sure enough, she spotted him coming back inside and looking around, and she turned around quickly before he spotted her. She tried to quell the small sense of panic rising within her.

The bartender set two glasses of water on the bar, and Tomoyo grabbed them, handing one to Sakura, and said thanks before getting off of her stool.

"Hey, Sakura," Tomoyo said, cutting off her friend's oblivious chatter, "let's head over to the other side of the club."

"What? Oh, okay," Sakura said, following Tomoyo through the bar.

Tomoyo grabbed Sakura's hand and led her through the throng of still-dancing people, searching desperately for a security guard or a bouncer whom she could alert. She wondered vaguely if she was overreacting, but she had always thought it better to be safe than sorry. And as she turned her head ever so slightly to see if the man was following them and saw that he was, she recognized that her reaction—as well as Syaoran's—was perfectly warranted. The man, no matter his intentions, did not give off the impression that he was a harmless bystander.

Spotting a tall, muscular man with a stoic face standing near one of the side exits and wearing the club's uniform, Tomoyo beelined over to him with Sakura in tow, moving a little more quickly. She turned again to see that the man was following them more quickly now as well, and she all but pushed Sakura in front of her, keeping her hand on the small of her friend's back as they walked up to the bouncer.

"Excuse me, sir," Tomoyo said to the bouncer, and she glanced behind her once more to see that the man had paused. He must have recognized what she was doing. She wondered if this would only serve to anger him—but again, she thought, better safe than sorry.

She explained the situation to the bouncer, pointing the man out to him as discreetly as possible. Much to her relief, the bouncer nodded and asked Tomoyo and Sakura to stay put as he walked over to the man to have a word with him.

"Tomoyo, what's going on?" Sakura asked, swaying.

"Oh, Sakura," Tomoyo said, grabbing her friend's shoulders and steering her to lean against the wall. "Here, drink your water. And mine, for that matter."

Sakura obediently took several big gulps from the glass. "Is that weird guy still following us?"

Tomoyo looked over her shoulder again to see the man arguing with the bouncer, who was much bigger and taller than he.

"I think we took care of it. It's going to be okay, Syaoran is going to come get us."

Sakura's eyes widened. "Syaoran is coming _here_?"

Tomoyo nodded. "We need to run out to his car when he gets here, okay? If we linger, we'll draw attention."

"Okay," Sakura said, holding her glass back up to her lips once more. "I feel bad—I didn't mean to make him leave his house—"

"No, Sakura," Tomoyo said gently. "He offered. You didn't ask him to do anything."

Despite the situation, Tomoyo had to marvel for a moment at the truth of what she'd just said. Syaoran had actually _offered_—insisted, even—to come out to one of the busiest parts of Tokyo to retrieve them at the risk of getting photographed. Whatever his feelings actually were, he certainly gave off the impression that he cared quite deeply for Sakura.

Tomoyo looked over and sighed in relief to see that the bouncer was now escorting the man, who was pulling somewhat belligerently in the opposite direction, out of the club. The crowd of partiers parted to make way, all staring in a mixture of amusement and confusion.

"The weird guy is gone, so we don't have to worry anymore, okay?" Tomoyo said to Sakura, who nodded.

"Thanks, Tomoyo," Sakura smiled, eyelids drooping slightly to cover eyes glassy from the alcohol. "You're a great friend. I'm so lucky to have you."

Tomoyo laughed. Although she was already a relatively and affectionate open person, Sakura became even more so when she was drunk. It was a lot of fun to watch. Then again, Tomoyo thought, she was also hopelessly naïve, especially when drunk, and that helped to ignite situations like these.

"If I were such a great friend, I probably wouldn't have insisted on you drinking so much when I knew you hadn't been out in a while," Tomoyo sighed.

She glanced down at Sakura's phone, wondering how close Syaoran was, when it lit up and began to buzz in her hands. She frowned at it as "Strange Man" appeared on the screen, wondering bewilderedly for a moment if the man who had been escorted out of the club had gotten Sakura's number somehow. She hesitantly hit "answer" and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Tomoyo? It's Syaoran."

"Oh, thank God. Sakura's got you down as some weird name in her phone, and I thought maybe that creepy guy was calling her."

"Oh, really?" Amusement colored Syaoran's voice ever so slightly. "That's interesting. I'm about a block away in a black Audi. Think you could come outside? I should be there in a minute."

"Yeah. Thank you so much."

Tomoyo hung up and turned to Sakura. "He's here! Let's get out of here."

As they made their way out of the club, finally breathing in outside air, Tomoyo looked around to spot the car Syaoran had described coming up quickly despite the large number of people who lined the streets chattering and barhopping. Tomoyo was relieved to see that no one seemed to notice anything conspicuous about the car—luxury cars were common in this area of town—and that Syaoran, who nodded discreetly to them through the windshield, was disguised just enough to not draw attention from the very drunk, very raucous crowd on the streets.

Just as Tomoyo made her way to the car, however, she felt Sakura let go of her hand and heard her let out an "Oh!" of surprise. Turning around to see what had happened, her eyes widened to see that the man who had been following them around in the club, who must have stood outside waiting for them, had pulled Sakura back by the wrist and wrapped an arm around her waist, slurring words to her that Tomoyo could not hear among the ruckus of the crowd. Frantically, she turned to Syaoran, who had also noticed this, and saw him taking off his seatbelt to get out of the car, eyes ablaze with fury.

In the few seconds that passed, Tomoyo processed what happened very slowly.

She understood, first and foremost, that her friend was in some kind of trouble, and that she needed help. She wanted _anyone_ to help, Syaoran included, but she simultaneously recognized that if Syaoran got involved, he would face a slew of bad press and that Sakura would become part of the media speculation. And as she realized this, her stomach dropped as she watched his car door open. She turned around desperately, as if to look for any other option—and saw that in a miraculously well-timed move, in the next millisecond, the bouncer from before had parted the crowd outside, shouted the man down and grabbed him by his collar—effectively forcing him to let Sakura go in the process—and dragged him away from the vicinity of the club.

Tomoyo turned back to Syaoran's car with bated breath to see if anyone had spotted him, but she saw that Syaoran had not opened the door of his car, having seen the bouncer come in just in time. She powerful relief rush through her system, and she turned back to Sakura. "Are you okay?" she said breathlessly, ignoring the eyes of the now-intrigued crowd, most of whom quickly turned their attention to the man getting dragged away down the sidewalk.

Sakura's eyes were wide and she was clearly shaken, but she nodded. "Yeah, he didn't hurt me."

"Come on, let's go," Tomoyo said, and the two crossed the street over to Syaoran's car, which, in the middle of all the commotion in front of the club, went relatively unnoticed.

* * *

"The building on the right is mine," Tomoyo said, prompting Syaoran to slow down to a stop.

After they'd piled into the backseat of the car and sped away, Sakura had given Syaoran an enthusiastic "Hi, Syaoran!" before he could even ask her if she was all right and, much to Syaoran's amusement, thrown her arms around him in a big hug to show him her thanks before falling asleep with her head on Tomoyo's lap.

Tomoyo, feeling very sober by this point due mostly to the adrenaline of the experience, had reintroduced herself properly to Syaoran upon entering the car. Although they discussed on the way home whether to let Sakura stay at Tomoyo's for the night, Sakura had mumbled in her half-conscious state that she wanted to go home, so they agreed that it would be best to drop Tomoyo off and then let Syaoran take Sakura to her apartment.

As they drove, Tomoyo observed Syaoran carefully, wonderstruck more than starstruck because of how absolutely _normal_ he seemed for a celebrity. While Sakura's stories had taught her not to expect diva behavior from him, it still shocked her how much he seemed like a very regular, very nice person, and it warmed her up to him immediately. And even though they had escaped attack and recognition—albeit very narrowly—she still could not believe that he had ventured out into the public to retrieve Sakura when the conditions were so risky.

"Thanks again," Tomoyo said, bowing her head slightly towards Syaoran in gratitude. "I'm so sorry that you came out and ended up in all of that commotion."

Syaoran shook his head. "Don't worry about it—I don't think anyone saw. I'm mainly glad you guys are safe. It looks like I got there just in time, huh?"

Tomoyo smiled. "Yeah, you really saved our necks back there. I had no idea how crazy that guy was. Something really bad could have happened if you hadn't come when you did. And I feel so horrible for dragging Sakura out and then having the night end like this..." She trailed off and shook her head.

"No, don't," Syaoran said, looking back at Sakura fondly—something Tomoyo caught immediately. "She seemed like she was having a lot of fun when she texted me earlier in the night. I'm sure she enjoyed it. Hopefully she'll remember some of that tomorrow," he added, laughing.

"Yeah, she might end up with a pretty bad hangover," Tomoyo said, wincing. "Do you think you're okay taking her home?"

"Yeah, I think it'll be okay," he said, and then paused before speaking again. "Er... I swear I'm just going to help her inside, no funny business—"

Tomoyo threw her head back and laughed. "It's fine. She trusts you. I trust you, too. Thanks again, Syaoran. Hopefully, I'll see you again soon."

Syaoran nodded. "It was really nice to meet you."

After Tomoyo got out of the car and Syaoran saw that she had safely entered her apartment, he began to drive the now familiar route to Sakura's apartment. He looked into his rearview mirror to see her lying across the backseat on her side, eyes closed and arms huddled up against her chest.

Finally allowing himself to heave a sigh, he felt a rush of relief as he realized that they really could have run into trouble tonight if he had not gone out to get them. Still, he was grateful that he had made the decision to go, and he was especially grateful that no one had seen it happen. Of course, he didn't desire bad press by any means; but he especially didn't want to make things even more difficult for Meiling than they already were.

_I've really got to stop pressing my luck like this, though._

* * *

In his first visit to Sakura's apartment, Syaoran had found it inexplicably comforting, much like the presence of its owner. He could say the same this time around, even as he struggled to find the light switch when Sakura wandered in ahead of him, stumbling through the dark towards her bedroom without bothering to turn a light on.

Something about the scent and the temperature of the apartment, he thought, made it pleasantly warm and homey. It was slightly cooler than outside but not so warm that it was stuffy, and it smelled like a pleasant mixture of perfume and laundry detergent. Even the lights cast an incandescent glow on the place, giving it an air of welcoming. Pink, which seemed to be a color that suited Sakura's aura, popped in random bursts throughout the apartment—the ties that held the white curtains open, pink accents on the furniture, the pink house slippers that sat forgotten by the door. Modest though it was, it truly was _Sakura's_ apartment, he thought.

Sakura's dog, which she'd introduced to him as Kero ("Short for Keroberos!" she'd exclaimed) the last time he'd been here, came up to Syaoran and sniffed his leg before deciding to pad alongside him as he trekked into the living room and sat on the sofa, wondering with some amusement if Sakura was so drunk that she would fall asleep without remembering that he was here.

He'd followed her inside to make sure she was okay and safely in bed, but now that he was in and she'd run off to her room, he wasn't sure what to do.

_I guess I could wait a few minutes and then go check on her before I head home_, he thought as he absentmindedly stroked Kero's head.

The dog jumped to alert, as did Syaoran when he heard a sudden _thump_ and a crash from Sakura's room. Immediately, he shot up from the sofa and ran down the hall.

"Sakura?" he called, knocking on the door.

When he got no response, he slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door, peering inside. He was perplexed to see that she was not in the room, but when he turned his head to the left, he saw that the room was connected to a bathroom whose door was open. He walked over to it to see that Sakura was sitting on her knees, frowning over the bits of broken glass that had scattered all over the tile floor.

"Sakura, holy shit! What happened?" Syaoran asked, eyes widening as he realized that Sakura was holding her hand, which was rapidly gushing blood.

"I slipped on the floor and I tried to grab onto something, and I think... I think I knocked this cup off of the counter," Sakura said, her voice still at a slightly higher pitch than usual. The slur was still there in her words as well, and Syaoran realized she was drunker than he'd thought. She herself looked confused as to what had just happened.

"Did you try to pick it up by yourself? You're bleeding everywhere!"

"Yeah. I was trying to clean it up," she mumbled. She looked up at him. "I'm sorry. Are you angry?"

"No," Syaoran sighed. "I just wish you'd been more careful. Here." He stepped over the glass, although he wore a pair of indoor slippers that prevented any shards from piercing his feet. He took a hand towel off of the rack and ran the faucet over it before wrapping it around Sakura's injured hand, and then without warning, he scooped her up in his arms.

"Wait," Sakura yelped surprisedly. "What are you doing?"

"You're barefoot, and I don't think you're really in the right state of mind to try to step around near-invisible shards of glass," Syaoran said, his voice tinted with both exasperation and amusement. He carried her over to her bed and sat her down. "Stay put for a moment, okay? Keep that towel on your hand. I'll clean up your bathroom for you."

Sakura stared at him, lids heavy and cheeks tinted red from the alcohol, before nodding vigorously. "Okay."

Syaoran smiled at her and ruffled her hair before turning back to the bathroom. Sakura was hilariously childish when she was this drunk, he realized. He felt like he was watching over an eight-year-old, although it was more amusing than anything else.

Sakura's mind buzzed, short strings of the same thoughts running through her head over and over again. Why was Syaoran here? She couldn't quite remember. It was all very hazy, and all she could think was that her hand was throbbing quite painfully and that he was being so nice to her and that she'd spilled some blood on the dress Tomoyo had lent her. She would have to clean that off tomorrow. Perhaps she'd take it to the dry cleaners. Why was Syaoran here, and why was he being so sweet, Sakura wondered again? That was the main thing.

She struggled to recall the earlier part of the night. She knew he had picked them up, and she knew that there had been some trouble with that man who had followed them around. She shut her eyes, losing track of her thoughts.

Several minutes later, Syaoran stepped out of the bathroom with a plastic bag full of the broken shards of glass. "Your bathroom should be okay now," he said. "Let's take care of your hand."

They went to the kitchen, where Sakura miraculously managed to point him in the direction of the first aid kit. He took her hand and ran warm water over it until the blood began to thin out, and he dried the wound before guiding her over to the sofa and sitting her down. He sat directly in front of her on the coffee table and dug through the first aid kit to find antiseptic and some cotton pads.

"Tell me if this starts to sting too badly, okay?" he said.

Sakura nodded. "I think it's okay, though, it's just a small scratch."

Syaoran snorted as he applied the antiseptic-soaked cotton pad to the wound. "It's hardly just a scratch. You cut yourself pretty deeply. I don't think you'll need stitches, but you're really lucky I didn't end up having to drive you to the hospital for a second time."

Sakura laughed. "Oh, yeah, because of my nose that one time. You always give me a hard time about my nose now."

Syaoran looked at her, and then he shook his head and grinned. "Well, I'm glad you can laugh at it. You really have shed a lot of blood around me when I think about it. Be more careful, would you? And hydrate, or you're going to face the worst hangover of your life tomorrow," he said, pointing to a glass of water he'd set before her on the coffee table.

Sakura obediently took several gulps from the glass before giggling again. "You're so _serious_ all the time, Syaoran."

Syaoran looked up at her to see that she was making a cartoonish face to make fun of him. "And you are a child," he said, but he felt a certain fondness for even this aspect of her as he said it, and he chuckled.

Sakura laughed even more when she saw that he was laughing, too, and Syaoran watched her for a moment as her whole face lit up with her laughter, the glassiness of her eyes making them appear to twinkle. Despite the circumstances, he thought, she looked very pretty; it was the first time he'd ever seen her in party attire, and something was different about her face—perhaps she'd done her makeup differently.

Sakura realized that Syaoran was no longer laughing, but rather watching her silently, and her own smile faded a little as she suddenly became self-conscious. "What—what are you looking at? Do I look funny?"

Syaoran shook his head. "Not funny."

"Then what?" Sakura frowned.

"You look really pretty tonight, Sakura."

She stared at him for a moment, genuinely caught off-guard even through her drunken stupor. The erratic rambling in her head seemed to increase. _Did he just call me pretty? I know I'm really drunk, but I think he just said I was pretty. I could have imagined it... But why would I imagine that? I'm pretty sure it happened. Okay, I just need to be cool about this. I don't need to ruin it with something stupid. Especially when I'm so drunk. _

"Oh," she mumbled. "Um... Thank you."

_Well, that was stupid. _

"Of course," Syaoran said, and then he paused before he cleared his throat and began to apply ointment to the wound.

They sat in silence as Syaoran finished dressing the wound and wrapped it carefully in gauze, neatly tying it together. He patted her hand. "Looks like we're done here."

"Thanks, Syaoran!"

"It's nothing," he responded, nodding at her. "Looks like it's getting pretty late... You should get to bed, Sakura. I'll call and check in on you tomorrow."

Sakura shook her head. "I don't feel like sleeping."

"Well, then, what do you feel like doing?"

Sakura patted the seat beside her. "Come sit with me!"

Syaoran lifted a brow. "And do what?"

"I don't know," Sakura said, shrugging with that still-giddy smile on her face. "Let's watch TV or something! Let's hang out."

Syaoran glanced at the clock. It was 3:30 in the morning. He didn't mind staying, though, even if Sakura wasn't quite all there, because of course, even in this state, she somehow had the magical effect of pulling him out of his misery. On top of that, he also got the feeling that Sakura didn't want to be alone. He didn't have work until the later half of the next day... He nodded. He would stay.

"Okay. Just for a little bit," Syaoran said, and he sat beside her on the sofa.

"Okay!" Sakura chirped happily, and she grabbed the remote and turned the TV on to a channel playing some throwaway action-comedy from a decade ago. "Ooh, this is a good one."

Syaoran glanced at the screen and laughed. "You _would_ like this movie."

"What? What's wrong with that?"

"It's nonsense!"

Sakura stuck her tongue out at him. "Well, I think—I think you're an elitist."

Syaoran laughed. "I'm an elitist? Well, okay, if having good taste in film makes me an elitist—"

"Just because you were in movies doesn't mean you have good taste in them."

"Ouch," Syaoran said, his stomach hurting from how much he was laughing now. "Where is all of this aggression coming from?"

Sakura looked over at him and grinned cheekily, eyes twinkling again. "I'm just kidding."

Syaoran smiled back, shaking his head. "I know. Don't worry."

"Thank you for helping me."

"No problem."

They sat in silence as they watched the movie—or, rather, as Sakura watched the movie and Syaoran endured the movie while he watched Sakura.

* * *

Syaoran awoke with a start and recognized that he was at Sakura's apartment, the TV blaring silently before him and Sakura's head lolling on his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and squinted at his cell phone, which read five in the morning.

_Damn. It got a lot later than I thought._ He looked over at Sakura, who had fallen fast asleep and was now leaning on him at what Syaoran thought must not have been a very comfortable angle for her neck.

He shut off the TV before he stood up and carefully scooped her up in his arms, navigating his way down the hall towards her room. The door was still open, and Syaoran carried her towards the bed and just as carefully deposited her onto the mattress. He pulled the sheets out from beneath her and laid them over her. She sank her head deeper into the pillow and turned her head to her side, facing him, although she remained asleep. Kero's collar jangled as he hopped onto the bed, curling up at the foot of the mattress.

Syaoran turned on the lamp on the nightstand to give her some light in case she needed it at some point in the night. He looked around her room for what really felt like the first time—when he'd been in here previously that evening, he had hardly noticed anything, as he'd been far more concerned about the blood and the glass.

Unsurprisingly, her room was very much like her, just like the rest of her apartment, bathed in the same light and comfortably furnished in spite of the small size. It was cluttered but seemed organized somehow; none of the décor, from the sheets on the bed to the curtains hanging off the windows to the style of furniture, matched in particular, but all of it pulled together in some intangible way.

A stuffed bookcase sat in a corner, and a small desk and rolling chair sat in the opposite corner with a large, cluttered bulletin board hanging above it. Jackets and scarves cascaded down a rack that hung off of the open closet door, and a dresser topped with candles and jewelry that Sakura never really seemed to wear was placed beside the closet. In another corner was an ottoman that Syaoran assumed Sakura used as a chair. All of the furniture was reasonable but small; her only real luxury seemed to be the bed on which she slept, which was directly in front of the windows of the room.

And there were photographs everywhere—photographs on her bulletin board, in frames on her desk and on the walls and on her dresser and tucked into the corners of her mirror. Along with the friend he'd met tonight, Tomoyo, he saw three men in many of the pictures and assumed that they must be family. Random people were scattered throughout the rest of the photos, but the four figures seemed to appear quite frequently. He liked that she had a core group of people who were obviously very important to her. He'd found that in his own life, where he was surrounded by dozens of different people every day, it had also been important for him to truly know the few upon whom he could rely no matter what.

He sat on the bed beside her for a moment, staring at her face in the lamplight. She looked contented enough, he thought. She probably did have fun, even if the night out had ended in trouble. He found himself wondering if she'd danced with anyone. Reaching over, he gently brushed some of the hair out of her face.

Sakura's eyes opened slightly, and she squinted at him in the light. "Syaoran?"

"Hey," he said softly. "I was just about to go. Go back to sleep."

"No, no, don't go," Sakura mumbled, tugging at his shirt. "Stay here."

Syaoran realized Sakura was still probably quite drunk. He smiled slightly. "Thanks... But I don't really think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" she sighed sleepily. She shut her eyes and found his hand with her bandaged one and interlaced their fingers.

Syaoran stared down at their hands in surprise. She was _definitely_ still drunk, he thought. But he couldn't help but think this felt nice. He ran his thumb over her hand, tracing the edges of the bandage.

"Stay," she repeated, her voice half-fading already.

Syaoran gently pulled his hand from hers and reached out to stroke her hair. "I've gotta go, Sakura."

"Aw, okay," she mumbled, too tired and too far gone to argue. Her voice trailed off as she babbled sleepily. "Wish you could stay... Don't wanna be alone."

Syaoran felt a pang in his chest as he looked down at her, and he swallowed. So he had been right. At the end of the day, perhaps Sakura was just as lonely as he was. How could he say no to that?

"Okay, I'll stay," he said.

Sakura opened one eye and smiled at him. "Yay," she said faintly, her voice still heavy with sleep and intoxication.

Syaoran chuckled quietly. "I'm going to go sleep on your couch, okay? I'll be right down the hall."

"No, sleep here."

He paused. "I don't think I should do that."

"Why not." At this point, Sakura was moving her mouth so slightly that her questions came out sounding more like garbled statements.

"I don't think you'll remember asking me to do this tomorrow, Sakura."

"It's 'kay," Sakura mumbled. "We're just sleeping. Sleep here with me."

Syaoran chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment. "Sakura..."

"C'mon."

Syaoran sighed. "Okay. But please don't freak out tomorrow."

"'Kay."

He shrugged off his hoodie and placed it over the back of her chair before climbing into the other side of the bed. For some reason, his heart was racing, and he realized it would be a little while before he himself would be able to fall asleep. Although he had gotten in on the very end of the bed to keep some distance between Sakura and himself, he nearly had to laugh when she immediately sidled over to him and placed her head on his chest just below his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist and completely negating his efforts. She sighed contentedly into his chest.

Whatever inhibitions Sakura had reserved sober were completely gone, Syaoran thought.

Deciding to just let things fall where they would in the morning, Syaoran wrapped an arm around her as well and pulled her in just a little more closely, suddenly relishing in the feeling of having someone beside him. He had forgotten how good it felt to fall asleep in the presence of someone whose very existence soothed him.

"Syaoran," Sakura mumbled sleepily, her voice now barely a whisper.

"Hm."

"Thank you."

Syaoran bent his head down ever so slightly, and before he could think about it, he placed a kiss atop her head, surprising himself; but the surprise quickly dissipated. This was okay, he thought. Somehow, against all he'd ever known, this felt very, very right.

"Good night, Sakura."

* * *

Sakura awoke with a long inhalation, and even before her eyes opened, she felt a persistent, painful hammering in her temples. She recognized several things in very slow succession: that she was in her own bed, although she had little recollection of how she'd gotten there; that she was still wearing her dress from last night, a sure sign that she had been far too drunk for her own good; and that she had somehow hurt her hand, which ached dully.

There was something else, though, and she glanced around to figure out what it was. She squinted at the clock, which read ten in the morning. She willed herself to sit up, and then she looked at her hand and realized that someone had bandaged it for her, had carefully wrapped it in gauze and medical tape. She knew that she could not have done that on her own, and she struggled to recall what had happened last night.

She remembered, again, texting Syaoran a tentative hello, running off to dance with Tomoyo, taking countless shots, and ultimately losing her group of friends. She also recalled the man who, as far as she could tell, had been following her around. And she remembered texting Syaoran throughout the night... She reached over for her phone, which was miraculously in its right place on the nightstand, and began going through her text and call records. Seeing the exchanges between Syaoran and herself, she suddenly saw flashes of being pulled away from Tomoyo for a brief moment by the man who had followed her around before running into a car, of Syaoran kneeling in front of her in her bathroom and grabbing her hand, which had been bleeding...

_Syaoran had come over here._

"Oh, my God," she muttered under her breath. She prayed that she hadn't done anything too embarrassing. How long had he stayed over? She looked around her room as if it'd give her any indication, and then her eyes landed on a sweater that was not hers sitting on her desk chair. She frowned, finally getting out of bed, still rather unsteady on her feet—she vaguely realized there was probably still alcohol in her system—and walked over to her chair, examining it more closely. Was he still here?

As if on cue, the door to her bedroom opened with a creak, and Sakura whipped around, eyes widening to see Syaoran standing there, a glass of water and a mug of coffee in his hands. She felt a strange mixture of mortification and happiness brewing in her stomach.

_So this means... This means he..._

"Oh, my God," she found herself whispering again.

_Syaoran didn't just come over here. He_ slept_ over here._

* * *

That's the end of chapter sixteen! I know you guys have been waiting for some fluff between these two for a long time now, so I hope this chapter satisfied! It was a lot of fun to write, really refreshing after all of the angst of the last couple of chapters. Alas, paradise can't come just yet, though, or we wouldn't have much of a story, would we? Cue the maniacal laughter ;D

Interestingly, I had a really tough time thinking out the logistics of these scenes. I rewrote about five times, I think, the scenes where Syaoran comes in and where the night ended up going. In some, Sakura didn't hurt her hand at all; in others, she sobered up a lot more quickly; in others, Syaoran went home without anything even happening! Some of them were too boring and others were too far-fetched. Hopefully, I got it just right after all the different attempts! And I hope it was entertaining as well.

Thank you guys for all of your reviews! The response was overwhelmingly positive and just... overwhelming in general for this chapter! Everyone reviewed so quickly and I think it was the most enthusiastic response I've gotten to a chapter in a while, which really made me happy! And to those of you who have been asking—there will _definitely_ be ExT in this story. Just gotta get them to meet again first. Sorry our lead couple is so slow, otherwise they'd take up less room per chapter, haha.

Anyway, that's all for now, and I'll be working diligently on this next chapter through finals! Wish me luck, and please leave a review! Thanks for reading!

Love,

boreum dal


	17. always the truth

**radio star**

xvii. always the truth

"Hello?"

"Meiling, you sound so unexpectedly pleasant when you answer the phone."

"Bite me."

"I'd rather not."

Meiling smirked as she pressed her phone to her ear with one shoulder while continuing to type away at her computer. She squinted at the screen as if it would make what she were writing make more sense. "What do you want, Eriol? It's a busy morning, you know. These press releases are such a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Ah, I'm sorry to interrupt, then. But I have a favor to ask."

"What's that?"

"You know the Bunka Gakuen Museum Ball is coming up in two weeks."

Meiling sighed. "Don't remind me. It's throwing all of my scheduling off track. But anyway, yeah, why do you mention it?"

There was a pause. "I don't have a date."

Meiling's eyebrows rose, and then she began to laugh.

"Don't laugh at me," Eriol grumbled from the other end of the line.

"Sorry, sorry," Meiling said, regaining her composure. "I just wasn't expecting this. Isn't your phone full of clingy women who would die to go with you to this thing?"

Eriol let out a sigh. "All of the press will be there, and I'm not looking for anyone to make anything of it. If I take you, there's no personal pressure and there's also no media speculation."

"Ouch. And here I was, thinking you wanted to take me so you'd have a beautiful, witty woman on your arm on the red carpet for once."

"That, too," Eriol replied, and Meiling could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I'm sold, then! Forward me the information."

"Will do. Let me know when you're free. I'll send a driver over to take you to Chanel for a fitting."

Meiling squealed. "You're spoiling me. I'm used to going to these things in my big PR handler power suits, you know."

Eriol chuckled. "It's protocol. You'll need a nice dress."

"Well, you can count on me—I'll find something really classy," Meiling said with a smile. "Thanks, Eriol."

"No, thank you, Meiling. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it! It'll be fun. I'll be the best date you ever had."

Eriol scoffed, but Meiling could still hear the smile in his voice. "I'm sure."

"Bye, Eriol." Meiling put the phone down as the call ended before turning back to her screen. She heard her inbox alert her to a new email, and she clicked over to see that it had a red exclamation mark next to the subject, indicating urgency. She sighed. She'd been getting a lot of those these days, and they were rarely good.

_What now...?_

Her eyes narrowed as her eyes scanned the contents of the email. Indeed, this was definitely not good.

* * *

Sakura tried to find words to express her surprise and confusion—or perhaps even just a "hey" to start with—but she could not seem to force any kind of noise out of her throat. Instead, she stared at him with wide eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up and panic churning through her stomach as she rapidly imagined various horrifying scenarios that could have occurred while she had been intoxicated.

Syaoran had slept over at her apartment. There was no other explanation as to how he was here now. But how had he gotten here?

Syaoran set the glasses he held down on Sakura's desk before walking up to her. "You're awake, then," he said calmly, which only seemed to add to Sakura's distress.

Eyes still wide, Sakura felt herself nod slowly. "U-um," she finally said, but she couldn't manage to push any more noises, let alone words, out of her mouth.

Syaoran scratched his head. "I, ah—I guess you don't remember... You wanted me to stay over last night."

Sakura's jaw dropped slightly, and she suddenly felt her heart stop in her chest. "I—I _asked_ you to stay?" she squeaked.

"Yeah."

"Um... In my living room?" she asked in that same small voice, hoping she hadn't gone so far as to ask him to sleep in her own bed with her.

"Well, you were pretty gone, and you asked me to sleep in your room with you..."

Sakura's eyes widened once more, and she listened with growing mortification as Syaoran quickly continued after having realized the possible misconceptions that could arise from his previous words. "I mean, nothing happened—we just slept. I think you just didn't want to be by yourself—"

"Oh, my _God_." Sakura slapped her hands over her eyes as she collapsed backwards into her chair. As she'd feared, embarrassment came over her in waves, sending an unpleasant, sour feeling all through her body. "Syaoran, I'm _so_ sorry," she groaned.

"It's okay, really—"

"No, it's not okay," Sakura said, her voice muffled by her hands. "That was so ridiculous of me, so totally out of line—_what_ I was thinking, I couldn't even tell you—"

"Sakura, don't—"

"God, I turn into such an _idiot_ when I'm drunk, I always get so _stupid_ and it was just _so_ inappropriate—"

"Sakura. Stop it." Sakura felt Syaoran pull her hands away from her face and guide them back down into her lap.

He had crouched down so that he was eye level with her, and as suddenly as Sakura's heart had stopped, it started back up again at twice its normal pace. His face was very close to hers, but more than the proximity, his expression threw her the most. He was definitely amused, as she saw that the corners of his lips were tilted up towards his lower lids, and he appeared to be trying not to laugh. But there was also an ambiguous, warm emotion in his eyes, something that made them softer than usual—and she was certain it wasn't just the morning light. It was something else—fondness, perhaps? Maybe even tenderness, she thought, but she quickly dispelled the idea. Whatever it was, it made her nervous.

"It's okay," he said. "I didn't mind. I didn't want to leave you alone last night, all things considered."

Sakura stared back at him, unable to tear her eyes away, before she managed to find her voice. "Well, um...thanks," she mumbled. "I'm just really embarrassed... I'm really sorry."

"But why? Nothing happened. I don't think any differently of you," he stated, although that last part wasn't entirely true. Even though he'd only managed four hours of sleep, he'd awoken in a perplexed daze, because sleeping with her had felt so inexplicably, perfectly comfortable—as though he'd done it plenty of times before.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay." She paused, and then sheepishly added, "I didn't, like... drool on you or anything, did I?"

Syaoran stared at her in surprise for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. "No, not at all."

"Well, thank you for, um... staying when I asked you to," Sakura mumbled. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You'd probably have bled out on the bathroom floor," Syaoran responded, still chuckling. "You really are clumsy."

Sakura looked down at her bandaged hand and managed a smile. "I'm more graceful than you think, you know! You've just caught me at bad times."

Syaoran snorted. "Right."

"It's true!" Sakura insisted. "I used to do speed skating in middle school, you know. That requires some balance."

"Okay, okay," Syaoran chuckled. "You're not a klutz. I just have yet to see proof of that."

"Fair enough," Sakura said. "So, how exactly did this happen, anyway?" she asked, holding up her injured hand.

"I didn't see it, but I think you slipped on your bathroom floor and tried to grab at the counter. You knocked a glass off of it in the process, and I think you tried to pick the glass up by yourself."

Sakura cringed, feeling fresh pinpricks of mortification. It was predictable enough that she had been a complete fool last night, but she hated that Syaoran had been around to watch. "Was it bad?"

"Well, of course I'd have preferred if you hadn't gotten hurt at all," Syaoran responded. "But no, you don't need to go to the hospital or anything. We should probably change that bandage this morning, though. It was a deep cut, and you don't want an infection." He stood up and walked over to the desk, grabbing the cup of water and handing it to her and sipping on the mug of coffee. "I made coffee, by the way. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh," Sakura said in surprise, taking the glass from his hands. "I don't mind. Thank you."

"Drink," he ordered. "There's no way you're not hungover right now."

Sakura stuck her tongue out at him before taking a sip of water. She glanced down at her dress, which was dotted here and there with drops of blood from the night before. She cringed, and she realized that she must have looked like a disheveled mess. If she had the energy to muster more embarrassment, she would have blushed again, but she sighed exasperatedly to herself. Syaoran had already seen the worst of her last night, anyway, she thought.

"I think I'd better change and get ready for the day," Sakura said, and to her surprise, she felt a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. She thought she would be relieved to let him leave, but instead, she could only foresee how empty she would feel after he had gone. "But, um... Before you go, I could make breakfast? It's the least I could do," she found herself adding hastily.

Syaoran grinned. "Breakfast would be great."

* * *

After shutting the door of her restroom, Sakura leaned against it and sighed to herself. She was in _so_ deep, she realized, much deeper than she could have ever imagined. Removing herself from this situation the way she needed to do—she still had yet to tell him she'd quit her job, she remembered—was going to be much more difficult than she'd anticipated, and not just because of her feelings for him.

She leaned over the sink to wash her face, and as she splashed the water over her skin, she felt her head spin a little. Syaoran had picked her up, had stayed to take care of her, had _stayed the night_ because she asked him to do so. She wondered what sleeping with him had been like—whether he had held her, or if their arms had just grazed each other's, or if they'd slept completely on the opposite edges of the bed. And she marveled when she realized that even now, even in the morning after the haze was gone and embarrassment pervaded her thoughts and memories of last night, he was being impossibly kind. As much as she could have kicked herself for being so stupidly drunk last night—and not remembering much of it at that—she felt giddy and somewhat grateful that it had brought Syaoran here.

She looked again at her reflection as she patted her face dry. She knew that she would have to tell him today that she had quit her job. She hated the idea of not seeing him anymore, so much that it made her stomach churn.

And as an afterthought, she wished dearly that she could remember what happened last night.

* * *

Syaoran made his way towards the living room, looking around finding himself amused at just how many photographs Sakura had lying around her apartment, again with largely the same people. He crouched to get a better look at one that sat on an end table in the living room of Sakura as a small child, held by her mother at a theme park while her father held hands with a young boy whom Syaoran assumed to be her brother. He noted with amusement that Sakura looked the same, cheerful and bright-eyed, wide emerald eyes crinkled as she smiled a toothless smile at the camera while she held onto a blue balloon.

He stood when he heard footsteps down the hall, and he watched as Sakura came in dressed in simple cutoff shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt, her hair slightly wet from the quick shower she'd taken and her face devoid of any makeup.

His eyebrows rose. It was the most dressed-down he'd ever seen her, and yet, he thought she looked—

"What?" Sakura said, tilting her head to the side.

"Ah," he said in slight surprise. "You look—normal."

Sakura giggled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Syaoran shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "I mean, aside from last night and this morning, I don't think I've ever seen you out of work clothes."

Sakura realized in surprise that this was true, and she looked down over herself. "Is that...okay?"

"Yeah," Syaoran said quickly. "Yeah, it's okay. I was just surprised—I'd never—" He paused and smiled to himself. "You look nice."

"Oh, uh—well, thank you," Sakura murmured, feeling a blush creep up her neck.

All was quiet between them for a moment, before Syaoran said hurriedly, "Let's redo the bandages on your hand before you start cooking."

They sat back in their spots from the night before, Syaoran on the coffee table, where they had left the first aid kit open, and Sakura on the sofa.

As he took her hand and carefully unwrapped the gauze, Sakura looked up at him fleetingly through her lashes. Suddenly, she was nervous.

"So, are you okay?" Syaoran asked. He finished unwrapping the gauze and tossed it into a waste bin that he'd brought over and set down beside the table the night before.

"What do you mean?"

Syaoran frowned as he examined the cut, which didn't look infected, but appeared to be painfully deep. "Do you remember what happened last night? Some guy was following you around. He tried to grab you when I picked you guys up. I could've killed him."

"Oh," Sakura said, remembering once more. "Yeah, I'm fine—I remember. He was creepy, but he didn't hurt me. I'm relieved you didn't get out of the car... Can you imagine how much trouble you'd be in right now if someone had seen you?"

Syaoran rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you had time to think about something like that when you were being harassed." Still, he felt the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile. "Thanks, though."

Sakura smiled back hesitantly, and then she let out a sigh, knowing she'd have to tell him now. It had been hammering away at her all morning, and prolonging the wait did not seem to help as much as she had hoped. "Um... So..."

Syaoran glanced up at her, pausing. He frowned at her expression, the way her eyes darted toward the ground before he could meet them and the way the corners of her mouth turned down as she chewed on the right side of her lower lip.

"Everything okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked.

"No, not at all," Sakura responded, shaking her head. "I, um... I just have something to tell you."

Syaoran sat back for a moment, although he did not let go of her hand. She looked more worried than he had seen her in a long while, and he realized suddenly that seeing her so distraught unsettled him as well. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Sakura forced herself to keep her eyes trained on Syaoran. "So, I—I quit my job yesterday... And I know that probably means you won't have time to see me anymore," she said quickly upon seeing that Syaoran had frowned and then open his mouth to speak. "But I totally understand, and I've been so grateful for everything you've done for me, Syaoran—and so happy that we got to be friends—so if this is the last time we get to see each other—"

"Sakura, wait a second—what are you talking about?" Syaoran's frown had grown deeper, one eyebrow raised in exasperation. "What do you mean, 'if this is the last time we see each other'? Don't be dramatic, of course it's not."

"H-huh?"

He smirked. "I'm not a person who likes to waste my time. And if we just cut it off here, the last few months of meeting you would have been a pretty massive waste of my time, don't you think?"

Sakura felt nervous excitement brewing in the pit of her stomach, but she wasn't sure if she was hearing him right. "What—"

"Sakura, we're friends," he said. The playful chiding in his voice was gone, replaced by a gentle sincerity that engulfed her as he spoke. "We're _good_ friends. I don't need you to have a camera on you. I just..." he paused, hesitating for a moment, and then he looked her square in the eyes. "I want you around. I want to keep seeing you... If that's all right with you."

"Oh," she breathed, and she felt whatever had been building in her stomach explode into little streams of happiness all throughout her body as a weight simultaneously seemed to lift off of her shoulders. "Y-yes, that's okay," she managed, breathless.

Syaoran nodded with a smile. "Good. So, what made you quit? Why all of a sudden?"

"Huh?" she asked again, feeling whiplash from the sudden turnaround in topic as she still reeled from the sweetness of his previous words.

"Why'd you quit?" he repeated, going back to work on her hand.

"Oh, right. Ah, well, I don't know," Sakura said uncomfortably, raising her free hand to touch her neck as she looked off to the side. "Just—ethically, I never quite agreed with it... And I just need to get serious about writing and all..." she trailed off.

Although these reasons were real, Sakura felt that she was lying to him. The first and foremost reason she had decided to quit was, in fact, because she had fallen much harder for him than she had ever anticipated, and she was desperately trying to prevent herself from getting any deeper in and hurting herself. But how would she even begin to tell him something like that?

Syaoran stared at her quizzically for a moment, but much to her relief, he seemed to accept her reasoning without much question and nodded. "That means you can go write the kinds of things you've always wanted to write now, right?"

"Well, it's not that easy—I need connections to start that far ahead, so I'll have to lay a lot of groundwork and build up. I'll probably write freelance while I get a desk job, something like that."

Syaoran thought about how easy it would be to get Eriol to recommend her for a job at a magazine of her choice, and he glanced down at his phone momentarily.

"But I think I can do it," Sakura said quickly upon his silence. "I'm excited to try."

He looked back up at her, surprised out of his thoughts. _Of course_. Perhaps, he thought, she wouldn't need him to pull any strings. For although he wanted to help, he also understood that this was Sakura, who had so determinedly shouldered her responsiblities on her own and gotten this far out of her own accord. It wouldn't be fair to take that away from her. He nodded. "I have no doubt that you'll be successful, then."

Sakura's lips curved up into a soft smile, and she murmured a "thank you" as she looked back down at her hand, which Syaoran was now wrapping in a fresh layer of gauze.

She shut her eyes as the warmth of the moment settled in on her, opening them only when Syaoran let go of her hand, gently placing it back on her lap.

"All done here," he murmured. His eyes met hers, and they were glowing with such tenderness that it simultaneously startled and soothed Sakura. "How about breakfast?"

* * *

Syaoran let one arm hang out of his open car window as he steered with his other hand. He had left Sakura's apartment only moments ago, and although he did not regret anything from the morning or the previous evening, he realized that their relationship had fundamentally changed in a matter of twelve hours.

Of course, there was the matter of having slept over on purpose, something that Syaoran had never expected himself to do. But even more than that, they had officially phased out the business aspect of their friendship. Syaoran had never particularly cared for it, and it had been rapidly diminishing anyway, but it had been a good ruse—it had allowed him to call the relationship one thing even with the awareness that it was turning into something entirely different. Now that that was gone, it was time to face a dangerous truth. He was so comfortable with Sakura that it was beginning to get _uncomfortable_; not that he needed any more proof, but his stay at her apartment had proven that ten times over.

"_So, those people in that picture of you at the amusement park... Are they your family?"_

_Sakura looked up from her bowl of rice in momentary surprise before nodding. "Uh huh. My mother and father and my brother, Touya."_

"_Where are they now?" Syaoran asked, realizing that he had never really heard much about her family._

"_Well, Touya works for the Japanese Embassy in America, and my father is a professor in Tomoeda, my hometown. My mother passed away when I was five... So that would have been about a year after that photograph was taken."_

"_Oh," Syaoran said quickly. "I'm sorry to hear that."_

"_Thank you, but it's okay. It was a long time ago. We loved her very much, but we've had a lot of time to come to peace with it. I do miss her, though," Sakura added, although her tone remained cheery._

_Syaoran took a sip of his second cup of coffee and nodded. "I get it. My father passed away when I was young, too."_

_"I'm sorry, too."_

_Syaoran shook his head. "Same as you. It happened so long ago that I hardly remember what it was like having him around."_

_"If you don't mind my asking, did your mother ever remarry?" Sakura asked, tilting her head to the side._

_"Nah. She didn't want to, and between my older sisters and me and managing the company, I don't think she really had time for another husband, anyway."_

"_You have sisters?"_

_Syaoran nodded. "Four of them."_

"_I've never heard you talk about them," Sakura said, tilting her head._

_He smirked. "You'd know why if you met them. They're like unicorns on speed."_

_Sakura giggled, and Syaoran grinned as he spooned soup into his mouth. He looked up to see her staring at him, head tilted to the side, lips pursed, and wide green eyes curious. _

"_What?" he asked._

"_There really is a lot we don't know about each other, huh?"_

_Syaoran frowned at that. "I guess you're right. I never thought about it until now, really."_

"_Well, neither did I," Sakura said, and she looked up at the ceiling in thought. "It's just strange... I never thought about it that way because I feel like I know you so well, for some reason. And then you tell me that you have four sisters and I realize I don't know much about your life at all."_

"_Huh," he murmured. He realized the truth of her words because he felt the same way. But somehow, even without knowing that Sakura's mother had passed away long ago or that she had an older brother who worked in the United States or that her favorite color was pink, Syaoran felt that he could have predicted how she'd react in most given situations or what her favorite book in the whole world might be or what kind of songs she sang in the shower with stunning accuracy. He felt that perhaps she could say the same. "Maybe we just know the most important parts of each other's lives already."_

_Sakura lit up and nodded vigorously. "Yeah! What a nice way to think of it." She smiled down at her bowl. "Still, I think now's as good a time as ever."_

"_To do what, exactly?" Syaoran was physically biting back a smile of his own at Sakura's sudden brightness. He felt like he'd been smiling all morning like a buffoon, and he hoped Sakura had not noticed._

"_Syaoran Li, I'm going to learn everything I can about you from here on out," Sakura announced, pounding her fist dramatically on the table. She paused, and then giggled. "That sounded a little creepy, but you know what I mean. Non-stalker style, with your permission and all."_

_Syaoran gave up and broke into a full grin. "Non-stalker style sounds perfect."_

So they had agreed to carry on like normal friends would, contacting each other when they had time and meeting up when their schedules permitted.

He would accept this, he thought. What else could he do? Uncomfortable as he was with the idea of falling deeper for Sakura in such a precarious time in his life, he understood from simple life experience that these were feelings, and feelings were uncontrollable. Actions, on the other hand, were much more controllable... He'd just have to be careful.

_But isn't that what I've been trying to do? And look where that's gotten me_, he thought with a snort.

He did find himself curious as to the real reason Sakura had quit her job. She had always been a terrible liar, and her discomfort and evasiveness had given her away immediately. He thought it out of his rights to press her about the matter, however, and thought that she might come around and tell him the truth with time.

Syaoran's phone went off, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he glanced down at the screen to see that Meiling was calling him.

"Hello?"

"Syaoran, where were you last night?"

Syaoran raised his eyebrows. "Last night? Ah... Well, I was at home..." He considered the option of leaving it at that and lying to Meiling, but he decided against it. After all, she knew the truth now, so there was no point in keeping up a charade. "I left, though, to go to Sakura's."

Surprisingly, Meiling seemed unaffected by the last piece of news. "Anywhere in between?"

"Huh? I did run by Purple Stripe to pick her and her friend up—some creep was stalking them all night."

Meiling let out a sigh. "So it _was_ you."

"What?"

"I know it's your morning off, and I hate to interrupt it two days in a row, but do you think you could run by my office?"

"Right now?" Syaoran asked, surprised.

"Yeah, if you can."

"You're being weirdly nice. It's making me suspicious."

Meiling laughed, although it sounded tense. "Just get over here."

"Okay, I'll be there in ten."

With a sigh, Syaoran made a U-turn at the next light and headed down the familiar route to Meiling's office.

* * *

Tomoyo frowned at her reflection in the mirror as an assistant busily hemmed up the bottom of her floor-length, cream-colored lace gown. She turned her hips slightly to get a better look at the seam, zipped up to the waist, which was accentuated by a gold satin ribbon tied together in a bow.

"Haruna, do you think this zipper is a little...conspicuous?" she asked her assistant, who glanced up at the mirror and peered at the zipper carefully.

"I didn't notice it until you said something, but you might be right—maybe we should tighten the fabric around that area and use a smaller zipper," Haruna said, her speech muffled by the pins in her mouth.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking." Tomoyo sighed. "Good thing we've got a little time before this ball, huh? I feel like every time I try this dress on, I find something else wrong with it."

One of the many perks of Tomoyo's new job was her automatic access to swanky fashion events, the crown jewel of which was the Bunka Gakuen Costume Museum Ball, a prestigious annual event held by the museum each year to celebrate the opening of a new exhibit. Fashion designers and celebrities alike attended the ball, and to Tomoyo's delight, they wore only the best couture to the event.

Haruna laughed. "That's how it goes when you're used to designing your own. Although this dress is a lovely selection. I think you'll make a big impression at the gala."

Tomoyo smiled, easing down the nervous butterflies in her stomach. It was far too early to be getting nervous, she thought. "I hope so!"

"The hem is done," Haruna said. "You can take off the dress for now."

"Thanks, Haruna!" Tomoyo stepped down from the platform that stood before the three-way mirror in her dressing room and heard her phone go off. She quickly ran over to the vanity to grab it.

"Sakura!"

"Hi, Tomoyo. Are you busy?"

"Nope, just trying on my gown for the Bunka Gakuen Ball!" Tomoyo sang, shrugging on her blouse as she held the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

"Oh, right! That's coming up soon, isn't it?"

"Yep! I can't believe I have tickets to this—I've spent my whole life dreaming of going!"

"Well, I can't think of anyone who would deserve it or enjoy it more than you!"

"Thanks, Sakura. You know, I looked at the guest list, and your favorite Japanese rock star is going to be there," Tomoyo said with a grin.

"Ah, well, that doesn't surprise me," Sakura laughed. "Say, do you have some time to meet up? Some stuff happened, and—"

"Nothing bad, right?" Tomoyo frowned.

"No... At least, I don't think so," Sakura said.

Tomoyo remembered only then that Syaoran had dropped Sakura off the night before, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, my God! Does this have to do with Syaoran? I can't believe I forgot he dropped you off last night! I've been so busy with this ball stuff, I didn't even think about it when I woke up this morning—"

"It's okay, Tomoyo," Sakura said with a laugh. "But yeah, it has to do with him. If you're free, do you want to grab some coffee? I could use a cup myself."

"Yes! Stay put. I'm coming to pick you up!"

* * *

"Wow. You really can't get away with anything these days, huh?" Syaoran said wryly, leaning over Meiling's chair to get a better look at the picture on her computer screen.

"Well, you did. Kind of," Meiling supplied, leaning back a little into her seat.

The photo in question was a grainy one taken with someone's phone on the street outside of Purple Stripe, where Syaoran's car had been idling for less than a minute before Sakura and Tomoyo had piled inside. Taken from the driver's side of the vehicle, the photo showed Syaoran's grainy silhouette reaching for his seatbelt, and although it resembled him—because it _was_ him—it was just fuzzy enough to be questionable and not particularly convincing. It had been posted to a message board with the question of whether the man in the car was Syaoran Li along with an account of how two girls had run out of Purple Stripe and gotten into the car before it sped away. Because the event hadn't been very conspicuous and most of the patrons on those streets had been drunk or distracted, only this photo had popped up onto the Internet. Still, it had been passed around from forum to forum until it had made its way onto celebrity gossip sites. Thankfully, as Meiling had pointed out, it wasn't quite enough to make it into the tabloids—this one would remain Internet speculation.

"I panicked a bit at first when I saw it," Meiling said. "But I think you'll get away with this just fine, as long as you lie low."

"Right—_ow_, Meiling, what the hell?" Syaoran said, rubbing his side where his cousin had punched him suddenly.

"How many times have I told you to be more careful?" she said sternly. "You got lucky! This could have gotten you into huge trouble. _Huge_. Please tell me what the _hell_ you were thinking, going over there like that!"

"Look, I told you on the phone. They were in trouble."

"They could have gotten a cab like any normal clubgoer!" Meiling said, raising her hands in exasperation. "The public eye is on you now more than ever and you decide it's time to be a hero for your paparazzo friend?"

"That guy was on the prowl," he growled. "I saw it myself, okay? He was literally standing outside, waiting for them to come out when I got there. Can't we just let it go, since I got away with it?"

"Syaoran, you can't just keep doing stuff like that. Look, I know you want to act like your life is normal, but it's not. So sometimes, you have to think these things through a little more."

"Thanks," he said coldly. "I didn't realize that myself or anything."

"If you know it, start acting like it," Meiling bit back.

Syaoran sighed and leaned against Meiling's desk. "I'm not trying to cause you trouble, all right? Just—after all that shit that happened with Mizuki—I don't know... I just wanted company."

"So you went to go pick her up while she was wasted, and you went to her apartment? Because you wanted company?"

"It wasn't like that," he groaned. "I meant to just help her inside, but she ended up hurting herself and needed help, and then she asked me to stay over..."

Meiling laughed incredulously. "So you stayed. Because she asked you to."

"Well, I mean..." Syaoran rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Nothing happened, though."

Meiling watched her cousin for a moment, how uncomfortable he seemed, how he wouldn't meet her eyes, and then she let out a snort. "Oh, my God. I can't believe this."

"_What_?" Syaoran said irritably.

"I cannot believe it. Syaoran, you are head over heels for a paparazzo. Like, _completely_ hopeless. I mean, I knew you said you liked her, but I thought you'd get over it—but this?"

"You're exaggerating a bit, don't you think?" Syaoran snapped, although he knew that she was very close to the truth. It was completely out of character for him to do something so reckless, followed up by more recklessness, all for the sake of a girl. "And besides, she's not a paparazzo anymore. She quit her job yesterday."

Meiling raised her brows. "Why?"

"I don't know. She said something about wanting to get serious with her journalism career. But anyway, can you cool it now? She's not a threat anymore. Just a normal girl."

"On the contrary, if the press finds out about her, there's still her history. If they do any digging—which, by the way, _of course_ they're going to do—and they find out that she was taking candids of you for almost half a year, things are going to get bad really fast."

Syaoran stared at Meiling in disbelief. "So you're saying that it's just always going to be like this? Always in secret, always hiding from the press?"

Meiling's face softened. "Syaoran... I just don't think this can work. You can still be friends, but even then, it won't be easy. You'd still have to be extremely careful. It just wasn't meant to be."

Syaoran's jaw hardened for a moment, but he said nothing. He stared at her computer screen, the grainy photo of him glowing back at him mockingly. Something very close to despair was beginning to come over him as he realized the full impact of Meiling's words. This had always been the truth. He knew that. He had just chosen stupidly to ignore it.

"Syaoran?"

He glanced over at Meiling, who was now looking at him with worried eyes. "Yeah."

"Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," he said softly, although he had meant to add a hard edge to his voice.

Meiling leaned her elbow on her desk and rested her head in her hand. She sighed. "God. Sometimes you make things so difficult. Look, if it means that much to you... It must really be something special. Don't throw it aside just yet. Maybe we can figure something out. But I need to meet her."

Syaoran raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wait, what—"

"I mean it. I won't be able to do a damn thing to help you out if I don't meet her. And I want to meet her _tonight_."

* * *

That's the end of this chapter! I know it's not the hugest cliffhanger, which may or may not come as a relief to some of you, haha. Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad everyone enjoyed the long-awaited fluff, haha. I know this chapter didn't have quite as much of it, but it's there if you look!

Per usual, I'm posting this chapter in a bit of a rush, so I haven't proofread the last half of it. Please let me know if you see any mistakes! My writing of this chapter was extremely disjointed—I'd open the document and add a sentence or two at times, sometimes even just a _word_, and then close it because I didn't know what else to write, haha. And then I'd delete pages of material and write different scenes altogether. Sigh. Still, I hope it came out cohesively. I've been trying to improve my writing a little bit lately, so I think I've been a lot nitpicker than usual, haha ;;

As a side note, the Bunka Gakuen Museum Ball isn't real, as far as I know. I modeled it after the Costume Institute Gala (or the Met Ball), hosted by the Metropolitan Museum's fashion exhibit at the Costume Institute every year in New York City! But it appears that many of our characters are attending this event, so we'll see what happens on the big night, hm?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you as always for reading, and please leave a review on your way out!

Love,

boreum dal


	18. interference

**radio star**

xviii. interference

Sakura fidgeted as she observed the large, brightly lit, white-painted office in which she sat. It was cavernous in size, and in Sakura's opinion, it was made even more intimidating in the almost austere modernity of its decor.

Today had been a strange day. In the middle of fielding questions about last night and this morning over coffee with Tomoyo—who had proclaimed that this _totally_ meant Syaoran Li was in love with her, or at the very least had strong romantic feelings for her—Sakura had received a call from Syaoran himself with an odd request.

_"Hm? What is it?" Sakura asked, eyes slightly wide with curiosity. She peeked through the window into the café, where Tomoyo caught her glance and gave her a thumbs-up. Sakura resisted the urge to laugh. _

_"Well... It sounds a lot scarier than it is. But my manager, Meiling, wants to meet you."_

_Sakura's brows knit together in confusion. "Me? But why?"_

_Syaoran sighed. "She knows we're friends. She hasn't really minded up till now because we've been careful. But I—she just wants to meet you to clear up PR concerns."_

_"Syaoran, I—"_

_"I'm really sorry about this, Sakura," he said, suddenly sounding so agitated that it shocked her. "I've never—I've never wanted my career to interfere with your life or make you feel like you're an outsider or someone I shouldn't associate with. She's just very protective of me... Family, you know."_

_"No, not at all," Sakura said, although she did, in fact, feel a bit like she was someone with whom he shouldn't associate. While having to meet his manager did not help quell that feeling, it certainly had not caused it. "Don't worry," she said soothingly, hoping to calm some of his distress. "It was _my_ career that interfered with _your_ life, silly."_

_She heard him let out a soft breath, and she wondered what expression he wore now. "When did she want to meet?" she asked._

"_Tonight, if you're free. I know it's short notice..."_

"_No, tonight should be fine."_

"_Will you just be at home? Meiling will send a car."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Okay. Thanks__ for doing this, Sakura. I won't be there—I've got work, and even if I didn't, she wouldn't let me, anyway," he said, an irritated edge to his voice. "But I told her to be nice."_

_Sakura giggled. "Okay__. I appreciate that."_

"_I'll talk to you later."_

"_Right. Bye, Syaoran." _

A woman with ruby red eyes and sleek black hair tied up into a bun, save for a few ringlets that fell gracefully around her ears and at the nape of her neck, stepped into the office. "Hi, Miss Kinomoto, I'm Meiling Li, Syaoran's manager and PR agent," she said, striding over to shake hands with Sakura.

In her fitted white powersuit and black heels, she looked quite at home in this room, Sakura thought, although that was befitting. It was her office, after all.

"Hi, I'm Sakura—although, I guess you already know me," Sakura said, laughing nervously. "Um, it's nice to meet you."

"Yes, it's a pleasure," Meiling responded with a smile, although it did not touch her eyes. "Would you like any tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you."

Meiling nodded and sat down on the seat across from Sakura. "First of all, I want to thank you for coming to meet me here on such short notice. I know you must have been surprised."

Sakura nodded slowly, a small smile on her face. "A bit."

"So, the reason I called you here today, Miss Kinomoto, is because I wanted to talk with you a bit about Syaoran."

"Oh, okay—yeah, sure," Sakura nodded, trying not to toy with her hands.

"I am aware that you were working for a tabloid magazine as a photographer and writer, and that you and Syaoran had a deal to take photographs of him." Meiling met Sakura's eyes. "I'm sure you'd understand that as his PR agent and given his recent history with the media, I've been really wary of this situation."

Sakura nodded again, and she suddenly found herself wishing she'd asked for some tea so she'd at least have something to look at or do with her hands.

"Could I ask you something?" Meiling said, ruby eyes glinting in the light. They really were a very peculiar color, Sakura thought. They reminded her of Tomoyo's eyes, which were also an unusual shade.

"Sure."

"What made you start doing this?"

Sakura raised her eyebrows. "Doing—following Syaoran around?"

"Yes."

"Well, the work required it," Sakura said a bit sheepishly, not knowing how else to answer.

"No, I meant—well, why did you start working with a tabloid? Was that always your preferred career choice? Syaoran tells me you'd like to go into journalism."

Sakura wondered how much Syaoran had told Meiling, surprised that he had even mentioned this much about her. "He's right." She chose a spot on the blank white walls behind Meiling's head and fixated on it as she began to speak. "I never wanted to be a paparazzo. I don't know anything about celebrities, and I think it's a terrible invasion of privacy to follow them around with a camera all day. I understand why it's done, but I never saw myself being the one to do it."

Meiling raised a brow. "And yet, you did."

"I did," Sakura conceded. "At the time I took the job, I had a lot of financial obligations to meet. It wasn't something I was proud to do, but my boss was very kind to me from the start, and I was coming out of a waitressing job that hadn't given me much to work with."

Meiling pursed her lips and nodded, mulling this over, before she asked, "And did you find that you were able to meet your financial obligations through your work, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was," Sakura answered truthfully.

"Then why did you quit?"

"Oh—well, I..." Sakura paused. For some reason, she hadn't been expecting this question. Perhaps it was that she hadn't expected Syaoran to tell Meiling anything about her at all, and it turned out that he had essentially told her everything. What was she to say?

"Miss Kinomoto?"

"I'm sorry," Sakura said, shaking her head. On a whim, she decided to go with the same response she'd given Syaoran. "I quit because I wanted to get involved in real journalism, and I knew I wasn't getting any closer to my goals through this job, no matter how comfortable it was. My boss had told me early on that he could help me get a start in magazines after I was done working there, but..." Sakura shook her head. "I didn't think I could last a whole year like he asked."

"Why not?"

"It's not a line of work with which I'm very comfortable," Sakura admitted. She didn't explain that much of that was because she felt like her world could not mix with Syaoran's any further than it already had.

"I see," Meiling responded. "But you still plan on seeing Syaoran?"

Sakura looked up at the ceiling, which was paneled with glossy white tile. What did Meiling want her to say? Perhaps the best answer was just the truth. It was all she had, after all. "Well... I hadn't expected to. I brought it up to him and told him that I'd understand if he didn't have time to see me anymore, but, um..."

Meiling leaned in, extremely curious now. Syaoran had not exactly elaborated to her upon how they had decided to continue being friends. She realized it should have surprised her that Sakura had not been the one to request that they continue their friendship, but for some reason, it didn't surprise her at all.

"He told me he wanted me around," Sakura finished softly.

"Is that all he said?"

"Something like that," Sakura said. She thought about all of the other factors that led her to wonder exactly how Syaoran felt about her—how casually he had let go of the business aspect of their relationship; the very fact that he had stayed over with her _twice_ now; and perhaps most importantly, the numerous instances in which they had exchanged no words but he had looked at her in a way she could never forget. That exquisitely vulnerable, tender burning in his eyes was an image that had been irreversibly branded in her mind.

But Sakura was reluctant to bring any of this up, partly because she felt out of place explaining such intimate moments to a stranger—even if Meiling _did_ know Syaoran extremely well—and also because she did not want to overstate his affection for her. If all of this was just in her head and Syaoran considered them just friends and nothing more, she didn't want to say anything out loud that would indicate that she had thought otherwise.

Meiling leaned forward, elbows resting on crossed knees. "Miss Kinomoto, I'm going to be very honest with you. Syaoran is not the type to get attached to people very easily."

Sakura nodded, nervous as to what she'd hear next.

"It's a survival tactic, you see—something borne early in his life out of necessity. He is involved in an industry that is so vicious and cutthroat that to place one's trust in another essentially means risking the possibility of that person turning around and divulging all of one's secrets to the media. In this industry, almost anyone would do anything to get ahead, to make more money, to become more famous or more powerful. Do you understand this?"

"Yes," Sakura responded quietly. She knew all of this, of course. And if she hadn't been aware of it before, spending these last few months around Syaoran and her place of work had certainly taught her firsthand. She felt a distinct sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, like dread was tangibly forming and trying to punch holes through her insides to get out. She understood now. Meiling was essentially telling her that she had no business being around Syaoran, and worse, it seemed that she was confirming that Syaoran did, in fact, only think of her as a friend.

"As I said before, as his agent and manager, I definitely don't want to see him hanging around paparazzo, let alone befriending one. And as his cousin—well, you're aware of what happened to him a few months ago, I'm sure."

Sakura nodded, unable to formulate any kind of articulate response. The sense of dread began to punch harder at her stomach, and she was certain that if she tried to speak, her voice would shake.

"Right. So, as his cousin, I feel protective of him, and from that angle, I'm also not keen on him being close with a paparazzo, either. So overall, this—his 'wanting you around'—is not something I am very happy about. I don't think you're a bad person by any means, but I'll be frank. I am very much inclined to distrust you."

Sakura stared down at her hands, unable to meet Meiling's eyes, but she nodded and mumbled an "I see." She felt blood rush rapidly to her head, and she wondered why she was having such a severe reaction to this news. She had felt perfectly content with her life before she had ever met or even known of Syaoran Li. And even just this morning, she had been able to brace herself for the possibility that he wouldn't want to see her again. So why was it that now, just a few hours later, the thought of no longer seeing him panicked her so much?

Before, it had been his choice, she thought. She had left the ball in his court, and he had delivered his decision to her quickly and confidently. She recalled how his eyes, serious and blazing amber, had met hers as he had told her with not even a hint of a question in his voice, _"I want to keep seeing you... If that's all right with you."_ For him to tell her this so certainly and then to have it taken away from her was much more difficult than never having had a confirmation from him at all.

Meiling let out a long sigh, and Sakura finally glanced up at her, only to see that her features had softened on a suddenly weary face. Meiling looked at back at her, and much to Sakura's surprise, she smiled kindly, lips curving up as her lower lids rose to slightly crinkle her eyes.

"However, Miss Kinomoto, I've been thinking about this long and hard, and I've come to the conclusion that a lot of what I just said doesn't really matter."

Sakura felt herself lean back a bit in surprise. "It doesn't?"

Meiling shook her head. "No, it doesn't. I'll get to why in a moment, but first, may I ask you something?"

Sakura nodded.

"If I were to tell you that I could offer you a sum of money that would ensure you'd never have issues meeting your financial obligations again—in fact, you'd be quite comfortable for a very long time—so long as you stay away from Syaoran, what would you say?"

Sakura raised her eyebrows in alarm. "Excuse me?"

"Just answer the question for me, please."

Sakura swallowed, wondering if this was all real. It sounded purely hypothetical, but she still wanted to provide an answer true to her feelings. "Well... I—I could never take the money," she began, eyes trained absently on a spot on the white leather sofa on which Meiling sat. "But if you insisted that I needed to stay away for his well-being, I'd ask that I could at least say goodbye to him. I'd... I'd want to tell him to take care of himself, and..." She trailed off.

If that were the case, she thought, maybe then she'd tell him how she felt. _I'd let him know that no matter what he does and what the world thinks of him, I'd still... _

Before Sakura could finish her thought, Meiling pressed, "You wouldn't take the money?"

"No," Sakura answered, her voice soft but resolute. "I'd refuse. It wouldn't be right."

Meiling watched her for a moment, one perfectly arched brow raised, and suddenly, she shook her head and laughed. "I hope you don't find me terribly cliché for having asked that."

Sakura raised her eyebrows bemusedly. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I'd never try to buy any of Syaoran's friends off, so I hope I didn't insult you. It was a hypothetical question. I was just really curious as to what you'd say."

"Oh," Sakura answered, her confusion only growing. She hoped what she had said had been enough.

"Miss Kinomoto," Meiling said, eyes kind, "I face a constant dilemma in my work. As Syaoran's agent and manager, I want to do everything that is best for his career and image. But as his cousin, I want to do everything in my power to make him happy and to keep him safe. It goes without saying that those desires clash. Now is one of those times.

"But here's why much of what I told you earlier doesn't matter: Syaoran is no idiot, and after everything he's been through, somehow, he has come to trust you, and to a most profound degree. I don't know how much he's expressed it or tried to express it to you, but he values you very much. And while I trust his judgment for the most part, this was too risky a situation for me not to assess it myself." She smoothed her pencil skirt as she took a breath. "But I can see now why he chooses to be around you. I think you give him a sense of peace and normalcy that he's craved since he was very young. And acting not even as his agent or his family, but just as someone who _really _cares for his happiness, I could never take that away from him. It is vital to him."

Sakura recalled the night almost two months ago when Syaoran had come to her after having received an email from Mizuki, what he'd told her the next morning before he had left her apartment. _"You make me feel like a real person."_

The churning in her stomach had not quite stopped, but she felt a rush of something very pleasant suddenly flooding her system, abating the dread that had been gnawing and thrashing at her insides. She suspected that part of it was relief. "I... I don't know what to say," Sakura admitted, a nervous laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Meiling laughed. "I guess there isn't a lot to say, honestly. I called you here, Miss Kinomoto, because I wanted to see what kind of person you are. If upon meeting you, I thought it necessary to cut Syaoran off from you, I would have. I can usually tell when someone is after something. I'm rarely blindsided, you know. But..." She shook her head. "You just don't seem like the type." She smiled. "You seem like you wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone Syaoran."

Sakura smiled back tentatively. "Well, thank you, I think." She paused. "Does this... Does this change anything?"

Meiling sighed, leaning back into her seat and tapping one finger against her knee. "Not exactly. You're welcome to still see him as long as you both are careful. Initially, I told Syaoran that the moment this goes to the tabloids, he could never see you again... But I don't think that's an option anymore, because I am one hundred percent certain that he would refuse that condition now, and he'd probably do anything to defy it."

Sakura drew in a breath and held it. She wondered once more if she was imagining the significance that she appeared to have in Syaoran's life, which, if Meiling was right, was far more than she had imagined. "You think this would go to the tabloids?"

Meiling's expression grew somber. "I should issue you the same warning I gave Syaoran. You've been fortunate enough to catch him in rare situations where he's not being followed, but I'm sure you've also seen firsthand how many people do follow him around on a day-to-day basis. If you're not careful—and maybe even if you are—they can catch you, too. And if you're photographed by the media, they'll begin to wonder who you are. They'll go to ridiculous measures to figure it out, and once they do, he won't be the only one caught in the crossfire. The spotlight will be on you, too, Miss Kinomoto, and I don't think it'll be in a manner that you'll enjoy."

She looked Sakura dead in the eyes. "I'll give you my honest opinion and tell you that I think it is highly likely that eventually, the media could catch onto your friendship with Syaoran. You seem like a good person, and honestly, too innocent to be around this industry—so I do worry about you in that respect. But Syaoran has known all of this, and I presume that you've known as well. Since all the parties involved have accepted such a risk here, we'll just have to prepare to face the battle if it ever comes to us."

Sakura stared at Meiling's grave expression and saw that she was entirely serious. She had never expected this, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized how naïve she had been. It had been easier when she'd had business reasons to see him, but unless they kept meeting at her nondescript apartment, the likelihood of the media catching on suddenly seemed very high. She swallowed what felt like a painful lump in her throat, but she nodded. "I understand."

Meiling nodded back. "Good, I'm glad you do. Miss Kinomoto, much as I hate to say it, you have my support." She smiled and extended a hand.

Sakura smiled back and shook it. "Thank you, Miss Li."

"Call me Meiling."

"Then, please, call me Sakura! I'm really happy I got to meet you," Sakura responded sincerely. Despite the whirlwind of emotions the conversation had put her through, she felt a great relief, as though she had just passed a very difficult exam.

"Me, too," Meiling said, smiling. She picked a business card off of the holder on the glass coffee table between them and handed it to Sakura. "My number is on here, if you ever need anything. And Syaoran's driver, Wei, should be waiting outside, and he can take you home."

Sakura took the card, which was crisp and white with glossy black letters raised along the surface—simple and elegant, like its owner. "Thank you."

Meiling shook her head. "Thank _you_," she said, her eyes soft. "Really."

* * *

Syaoran heard his doorbell ring just as he stepped out of the shower. "One minute," he called out, although he knew that the person on the other side of the door—likely Meiling—could not hear him.

Quickly toweling off, he threw on his clothes and walked down the hallway towards the door, rubbing a towel through his hair. He took a quick glance at a panel beside the door, where a video screen showed him that Meiling stood outside, waiting.

"You were waiting so patiently that I thought it might be someone else," Syaoran said as he opened the door for her, raising a brow. "Makes me think something's up."

"Shut up," Meiling muttered, stepping her way inside and throwing her bag unceremoniously on the chaise in the foyer.

"Ah, now you seem more like yourself," Syaoran said with a grin. "How'd it go?" He led her into the kitchen, where he pulled out a pitcher and filled two glasses with water before handing her one.

"It was... It was _good_," Meiling said, her own surprise evident in the way she emphasized the last word. She held the glass to her lips and took a sip. "It went really well."

"What exactly is your definition of 'really well'?" Syaoran asked warily. He sat at the small breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen, and Meiling followed suit, although she leaned back tiredly.

"She's a good girl, Syaoran. You should keep seeing her."

Syaoran nearly spit out his own water. "Did I hear that correctly? It was that easy?"

"You did," Meiling said, eyes closing. She sighed. "I hate this whole damn situation, but I hate fighting you more. And I don't have the will to fight you over it anymore, either, because I can see why you like her so much and I don't have the heart to take it away from you."

Syaoran looked down at the table, trying to hide the smile that was slowly forming on his lips. "What exactly did she do to persuade you?"

Meiling laughed dryly. "That's the funny part. She didn't do anything. She answered my questions, and that was it."

"Really? That's all?"

"Well... I asked her, hypothetically, what she would say if I offered to pay her off to never see you again."

"You _what_? Meiling, what the hell—"

"Oh, calm down. You know I'd never mean something like that. I wanted to know what she'd say. I already kind of liked her before I asked her, but I just had to make sure."

Syaoran pursed his lips. "Well, what _did_ she say?"

Meiling finally sat up, meeting Syaoran's eyes. "She said she couldn't take any money, but if she absolutely had to stay away from you, she'd want to be able to say goodbye first." Meiling smiled a small smile as she remembered Sakura's expression, her eyes trained up toward the ceiling as she carefully thought out her answer, which had been so purely honest that it had left not even a shadow of a doubt in Meiling's mind of the sincerity of her character. "She said she'd want to be able to see you one last time."

Syaoran bit back a smile, but Meiling knew him well enough to catch the slight lighting up of his eyes, the way his eyebrows rose briefly, barely. "So that sold you, huh?"

"It did," Meiling conceded, nodding once. "If you're going to put your ass on the line, you should at least do it for someone who believes in you. So, loverboy, you can keep seeing her. But be careful. I've already resigned myself to this becoming a headache later on, but at least give me some time to figure out in advance how to manage it before you go and get caught, okay?"

Syaoran nodded, trying to quell the light feeling rising up in his chest. "Thanks, Meiling. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah. Now, let's get back to business. The Bunka Gakuen Ball is in two weeks. We've got some serious planning to do on how to answer questions on the red carpet, because I won't be on your arm the whole night."

"What? Aren't you going?" Syaoran asked confusedly.

"I am," Meiling answered, and then she grinned. "As Eriol's date."

Syaoran stared for a long moment before roaring with laughter.

Meiling smiled wryly. "I know. I'd tell you not to laugh, but when he asked me, I laughed, too. He said he just needed someone who wouldn't stir up any questions."

"Smart of him," Syaoran muttered, still recovering from his bout of laughter.

Meiling nodded as she pulled out her laptop and opened up a document. "I know."

"Well, good for you. You deserve a night off."

"Are you stupid? You know I'll be keeping an eye on you the whole night regardless."

Syaoran grinned. "Well, I'll behave myself to make it a little easier for you."

"Thanks." Meiling took a sip out of her glass before continuing. "So, you're... You're going alone," she murmured to herself, reading her file aloud. She looked up at him. "You're sure?"

Syaoran shrugged. "It's the easiest thing to do. If I brought anyone, and I mean _anyone_, besides you, you know the media would go crazy."

"Might stir up some good publicity," Meiling said casually.

Syaoran shot her an exasperated look. "Don't start."

"You're right, you're right," Meiling responded, typing. "Prepare for some ridiculous articles about you being alone for the rest of your life or whatever, though. Mizuki will be there, too, so that's not going to help."

"Mizuki will be there?"

Meiling nodded. "She wasn't originally on the list, but I guess they got word that she'd returned early from Thailand, so they put her on it last minute. As of yesterday, she's attending. I know you said it's too much effort to act like you two are friends, but at the very least, try not to start anything."

Syaoran sighed. Somewhere in the last forty-eight hours, he'd all but forgotten about Mizuki—a blessing and a curse. But now, memories of their meeting a couple of days prior flooded his brain.

"You okay?" Meiling asked, peering over her screen at Syaoran's face. He looked quite different from how he had moments ago when they had discussed her meeting with Sakura. He stared down at a spot on the table, eyes slightly narrowed and unfocused, a slight frown set on his lips.

"You know... Mizuki told me something a few days ago when she saw me." His voice was oddly detached, and he continued to stare at the spot on the table.

"What was it?" Meiling furrowed her brow. "You told me you guys had a fight..."

"We did. She told me she still loved me."

Meiling's eyes bulged. "_What_?"

Syaoran was silent.

"Is that why you've been in such a funk for the last couple of days? Oh, my God, Syaoran, why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I don't know. I was tired and confused," he muttered before laughing mirthlessly. "I'm still tired and confused."

Meiling shook her head. "What nerve. What led her to tell you that? After leaving you and then not speaking to you for three months?"

He shrugged. "I guess she got lonely and nostalgic."

"What did you tell her?"

"What do you think?" He looked at her, finally, and Meiling felt the protective part of her stirring when she saw his eyes. "I told her it was too late..."

"But you're not sure," she finished softly.

He shook his head. "I don't really know if I'll ever be sure. It really _sucked_, making her cry. I hated myself for it." He sighed. "But then there's Sakura—God, I don't know."

Meiling reached out and placed a hand on his arm, relieved that he didn't flinch away. "One thing at a time, then. We'll figure it out."

He smiled wryly. "You're not going to tell me it'll all be okay?"

Meiling snorted. "I know you hate that kind of talk. But it'll all work out for the best in the end. That much, I believe."

"I appreciate that."

"Of course. Now, let's go over some of these interview questions..."

* * *

Sakura heard her phone ringing and reached over on her nightstand blindly before picking it up. "Hello," she mumbled.

"Were you asleep?"

She blearily opened one eye to darkness as she recognized Syaoran's voice. "No," she lied.

He chuckled. "Sorry for waking you."

"No, it's okay," she said, pulling herself up and switching on her lamp. She squinted against the light and saw that it was just past midnight. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to thank you for meeting Meiling today," he said. "She really liked you, you know."

"Did she? That's good," Sakura said, smiling. "I couldn't really tell..."

"Yeah, Meiling's got a pretty mean poker face. But she liked you, don't worry." He paused. "I can let you go back to bed—"

"It's all right," Sakura responded. "I'm up. I liked meeting her, too."

"Hm. That's good. I know she can be intimidating."

"No, she was very nice. What are you doing?" Sakura leaned back against her headboard, closing her eyes and relishing the feeling of listening to the low, pleasant timbre of Syaoran's voice.

"Just working on some music. Writing and editing, mostly."

"You were working all day today, weren't you? Aren't you tired?"

"Only a little," he said, and his words sounded slightly garbled. Sakura envisioned him holding the cap of a pen between his teeth as he scratched out a line in his notepad. "I do my best writing at night, though. Any leads on your job search? I know between meeting with Meiling and all today, you probably didn't get much time."

"I sent out a few applications today, so hopefully, I'll hear back from some places soon."

"Good," Syaoran said. "Keep me posted."

"I will," Sakura smiled. She liked the sound of that—keeping him posted. As though he were invested in the happenings in her life.

"Sakura."

"Hm?"

"I know Meiling told you earlier today that things could get pretty nasty with the media if they ever catch onto your friendship with me... And that she thinks it could really happen at some point." He sounded oddly muted, and Sakura realized that the pleasant tone in his voice had suddenly disappeared, replaced now by quiet concern. "I just wanted you to know... There's no pressure. If the thought of that is too much for you, I'd understand."

"What, like... Like not seeing you anymore?"

Syaoran waited a moment before answering. "Yeah."

Sakura had indeed pondered this all evening after her meeting with Meiling. Although it only seemed reasonable for both of them to cut off this relationship, Sakura couldn't bring herself to for some reason. Her mind had kept wandering back to that unfinished thought she'd had in Meiling's office.

_No matter what you do or what the world thinks of you, Syaoran..._

"Don't be silly," Sakura heard herself say. "Like you said, we're good friends, right? Anyway, what are the odds? I'm a nobody. If they ever photograph you with me, they'll probably think I'm just another fan trying to get an autograph."

"I can't imagine you asking me for an autograph."

"Yeah, I'm not really sure what I'd do with it," Sakura giggled.

"And after all this time, you still know how to bruise an ego." He chuckled. "Well, okay. If you're sure." He paused. "It's pretty late... I'll let you go back to bed now. Thanks for picking up."

"Of course! You go to bed, too. Don't work yourself too hard."

He waited another moment before speaking again. "Hey, Sakura."

"Yeah?"

"You remember earlier today, you told me that your career interfered with my life?" His voice was low, with all the hushed urgency of a secret and an undercurrent of sweetness that had Sakura inexplicably holding her breath.

"Yes?"

"You know, I would never say that you interfered with my life in any way. But—if I had to call it an interference... Well, I just wanted to say that I've never been so grateful for an interference, ever."

Sakura felt her eyes widen, and whatever words she tried to force out of herself would not come. A feeling she recognized as something akin to joy exploded inside of her in little pinpricks, like miniature fireworks, all over her body, creating a sort of ache in their potency.

"Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that," he said softly, and Sakura could hear the smile in his voice. "Good night, Sakura. Sweet dreams."

He hung up before she could respond, and Sakura fell back onto her sheets dazedly, her phone clutched to her chest against her racing heart.

* * *

"Tomoyo, you look beautiful," Sakura breathed, watching Tomoyo turn slowly at various angles in the three-way mirror to check for any faults.

"Aw, thanks, Sakura," Tomoyo smiled. The smile quickly turned into a pout. "I wish you were coming with me. I really could have gotten you that extra ticket, you know."

Sakura snorted. She turned onto her back on the love seat upon which she lay. "You know I can't. I don't belong in that kind of scene. What would I do there?"

"Mingle with celebrities while wearing a ball gown! And drink delicious, expensive champagne while wearing a ball gown," Tomoyo insisted. "_And_ dance with Syaoran all night. While wearing a ball gown."

Sakura laughed. "That all sounds wonderful, but I'd feel so uncomfortable and out of place. And if anyone caught Syaoran with me, they really would wonder who I am and what I was doing there, and there'd be all sorts of trouble. Remember what I told you Meiling told me? We're trying to avoid that."

Today was the day of the Bunka Gakuen Ball, and Tomoyo had asked Sakura to come over and help her get ready. As Sakura had sat in the studio in Tomoyo's home and watched her friend put on her dress and helped her with her hair and makeup, Sakura had refused Tomoyo's requests to come to the ball with her about five times now.

"If I've been telling you 'no' for the last two weeks, what makes you think I'll say yes on the day of?" Sakura had asked exasperatedly.

While Syaoran's schedule had been so jam-packed that she had not had a chance to see him face-to-face since the morning after he'd spent the night, he had called her nearly every day, even if just for a few minutes, to talk a little bit and then say good night. Sakura somehow found this even more exhilarating than seeing him, perhaps because the casual, everyday tone of their daily conversations hinted at an intimacy that had not existed between them before. Upon learning of these latest developments, Tomoyo had begun to petition for Sakura to come to the ball with her so she could witness their interaction for herself, but Sakura had declined repeatedly, remembering Meiling's words of warning. Between that, her inclination to feel extremely uncomfortable at such an event, and Syaoran's mentioning that Mizuki Akizawa would also be in attendance, Sakura really had no desire to go at all.

"And anyway, I've got my new job coming up in a couple of days, and I just want to go ahead and start preparing," Sakura added, a smile on her face. She was surprised at how quickly people had called her back for interviews and not just one, but the _two _offers she'd received. Ultimately, she had chosen a desk job as a secretary for a corporate consulting firm—hardly her preferred career choice—but it would pay the bills for the time being, and she planned on writing freelance articles to build her résumé in the meantime. More than anything, she was relieved to have a plan, and finally one that seemed as though it might set her on the right track.

"Oh, fine," Tomoyo said, frowning. She looked at the clock. "Ah, I've got to run, anyway. My boss said we'd meet at the office and we could all ride to the ball together! They rented out limousines for us."

"How exciting! Be sure to take lots of pictures for me," Sakura giggled. "But not so many that you look like a tourist."

Tomoyo smiled. "Will do."

* * *

Eriol breathed a sigh of relief as he headed into the crowded ballroom, where the party had not quite yet started—guests stood around sipping champagne and picking at hors d'oeuvres while music played quietly over the speakers. He turned to Meiling, who stood tall and radiant beside him in a straight, simple fitted white strapless gown with thin black piping, her hair up in a loose bun.

"Well, we're finally off the red carpet," he grinned. "Thanks for being my wingman."

"Wing _woman_," Meiling corrected, and she grinned back, rouge lips curving up. "You're quite welcome. Thanks for the dress."

"My pleasure. You look beautiful, by the way."

"Eriol, stop," Meiling laughed. "That is too weird coming from you."

Eriol shrugged. "I give compliments where they're due. Can I get you a glass of champagne?"

"Sure. I'll be around. I'm gonna try to find Syaoran."

Eriol nodded and headed towards the refreshments, hands shoved in his pockets. He truly hated this part of his job, the schmoozing and the forced grandeur of events such as these. They were fun for some, he supposed, but often, he was only thinking about work, and it didn't help that he attended these events alone or strictly with a friend.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar face standing beside the table of champagne glasses, looking around pleasantly as she stood alone, sipping on a glass herself. It was funny—he'd only seen her once, but he felt he could recognize those eyes and that strange shade of hair anywhere.

Maybe tonight would be more interesting than he had expected.

* * *

Syaoran squinted ever so slightly as the flashbulbs went off, and he knew that he would have a difficult time seeing anything when he got off the red carpet for a good few minutes. He slightly regretted his decision to attend alone, wishing he'd at least asked one of the employees from Meiling's office. He was familiar enough with them, and even if the press ran with it, they eventually would have dropped it after seeing that it was nothing. He couldn't wait to get inside; he suspected Meiling and Eriol had arrived a bit earlier than he had and were already in the building.

As he made his way down the carpet, fielding photographers and TV reporters who all had the same questions for him—_what are you wearing tonight, why didn't you come with a date, tell us a bit about your new album, are you aware Mizuki Akizawa is in attendance this evening?_—he threw on a perfect smile and posed and gave out the same diplomatic, vague answers that he and Meiling had gone over in the last few weeks. _I'm wearing a Tom Ford suit and Dior Homme shoes, I'm just here to have a good time tonight with friends so I didn't think a date was necessary, the album is almost done and I'm putting the finishing touches on it now, and yes, I am aware that Mizuki is here, but I haven't seen her_.

It went on and on, and he felt himself growing weary by the end of it, already wishing that he could head home. He couldn't even indulge himself in the nervous habit he had of running a hand through his hair, as it had been gelled and styled out of its usual unruly mane into a cleaner look to match the suit.

He kept one hand in the pocket of his pants, where his phone rested in his palm, cool and quiet. He knew that Sakura would not text him, not when he was at this big event, because she didn't want to bother him—but he wished more than anything that she would call so he'd have an excuse to duck somewhere quiet and just have a normal conversation, so he could hear the light amusement in her voice and the charm of her words.

But he finally felt relief as he neared the end of the carpet and began to head up the steps into the museum. He looked out at the masses of photographers and reporters, still smiling his red carpet smile and waving to cameras, smirking to himself a bit as he thought about how proud Meiling would be—and then he stopped, frozen, just before the entrance, grand and surrounded by towering columns.

The photographers suddenly grew frenzied, cameras clicking incessantly and reporters shouting a thousand questions all at once, creating what could only be described as a dull roar. But Syaoran could not hear or see any of it, because before him stood Mizuki Akizawa in a beautiful, powder blue ball gown, turned halfway to gape at him with wide green eyes, poised midway inside the building at the top of the stairs like something out of a fairy tale.

* * *

Sakura curled up in her bed with her book, Kero at her feet, and she set it down just for a moment to stare out of her window. Today's weather had been a bit crisper than before, as autumn was finally starting to settle in, and she smiled to see that the sky was remarkably clear for Tokyo. She thought about Tomoyo and Syaoran at the same event, and she hoped that both of them were having a good time. She giggled at the thought of them meeting again. Syaoran would have to play it very cool, she thought.

Even as she was beginning to get her life back on track, thoughts of him had become more and more predominant in her mind, sending shots of giddiness through her each time she envisioned his eyes or heard his voice in her head. In these last two weeks, something had truly changed, and she knew she had passed a point of no return. It had been a long time coming, she thought, but now that the feeling had finally hit her, she was surprised at how powerful it was, pleasant and painful and sharp all at the same time.

_I love you, Syaoran Li. And no matter what you do or what the world thinks of you, I'd still love you._

* * *

That's the end of chapter eighteen! I know it's quite a cliffhanger, but the good news is that I have a lot of plans for the next chapter and I can't wait to write it, which means it will probably be written and up relatively soon!

Thank you, as always, for the reviews from the last chapter. Even though a lot didn't happen, you were all very sweet and so responsive! I loved hearing what you liked most about the chapter, whether it was a detail or a favorite moment (those are always my favorite kinds of reviews!). It made me feel very good about a chapter in which I originally didn't have too much confidence, haha.

Speaking of which, I also apologize for the quality of this chapter. All summer, I've really been very nitpicky about my own writing, and so it's been hard to finish a scene with satisfaction. Still, I hope you guys enjoy it. I know it's a _ton_ of dialogue, but it gets things going, and a lot happens here, and even more happens in the next few chapters! Buckle up, because things are really about to get insane. The ball is just the beginning.

And to the many of you who asked and guessed for Sakura to go to the ball, I am sorry ;-; I wanted her to go, too, so she could wear a pretty dress and knock Syaoran off of his feet, but the media frenzy that would inevitably ensue would completely derail the way the plot's supposed to go, unfortunately. Still, Syaoran clearly doesn't need Sakura there to think about her, anyway ;D So now, Sakura has fully come to terms with the fact that she is in love with Syaoran. I know _we_ all knew this from like, chapter five or something, but it took her a little longer, haha. Now, we just need Syaoran to do the same! But we've really gotta get him to work out those age-old Mizuki feelings, don't we?

Also, can we please have a moment of silence for how good Syaoran (or any guy, really) would look in a Tom Ford suit?

And as a last note, thank you to those of you who read and reviewed my latest one-shot, "A Good Day." The reviews are all so very lovely, and I have every intention of responding to each of them! If you haven't read it already and you want a quick, happy read, please give it a shot!

I think that's all, sorry for the suuuper long author's note this time around T-T Guess I just felt talkative! Please leave a review, and thank you so much for reading!

Love,

boreum dal


	19. hope

**radio star**

xix. hope

Syaoran stared, speechless, as he met Mizuki's eyes. She looked quite beautiful, he thought, in a blue strapless dress whose skirt billowed out in cascading satin ruffles and pooled around her feet along the steps, her silvery hair piled atop her head and crowned with a jeweled headband. Like this, she appeared ethereal beneath the flashes of the photographers, who had not stopped clicking their cameras since he had laid eyes on her. He had expected her to be here, but he had not expected to encounter her in such a public fashion. And more than that, he had certainly not expected to feel as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him—not again. He'd thought himself more prepared than this. He swallowed, but he did not open his mouth.

Mizuki's expression, stuck for the last few seconds in one of surprise equal to Syaoran's, changed as her eyes searched his. Her brows tilted slightly upward toward each other, and her pink lips, which had been parted in her shock, suddenly pressed together. She blinked once, twice, but did not move. From his years of dating her and his even longer years of being friends with her, Syaoran knew what even the subtlest shift in her expression meant. He could thus detect every one of the myriad emotions that appeared on her face at that moment—joy, fear, regret, and most of all, a kind of pleading. _Please say something. Say anything._ She looked as though she might cry.

He steeled himself, clenching a fist in his pocket, and focused on the door. Ever so slightly, so only Mizuki could see, he shook his head. Without looking up to see her reaction, he pushed himself forward, past the cameras and the reporters and the beautiful girl watching him, and made his way into the museum through one of the smaller doors, just beside the main entrance.

* * *

_Sakura heard her phone ring over the hiss of the frying pan and ran out of her kitchen to pick it up. "Hi, Syaoran."_

"_Why do you sound so out of breath?" he asked, voice tinted with mild amusement. "That excited to hear from me?"_

"_Shut up," Sakura muttered, holding the phone between her left ear and shoulder while she headed back to her stove to continue cooking. Still, she felt her face grow hot. "I was making dinner and my phone was in the living room."_

"_What are you making?"_

"_Just omelette rice."_

_Syaoran hummed in appreciation. "Sounds good."_

"_If I don't burn it... I have a tendency to leave it on the stove for too long," Sakura laughed. "What are you doing?"_

"_I just left a radio show. They interviewed me and then I sang a song off of my upcoming album."_

"_Oh, I wish I'd known! Was it live?"_

"_Yeah, but you can catch it online if you look for it," Syaoran responded. "I don't think you'll find it very interesting, though."_

"_How do you know?" Sakura frowned._

"_Just a guess. You're not very into pop culture, right?"_

"_Well, yeah, but..." Sakura's frown grew deeper. Did he really not know?  
_

"_But what?"_

_Sakura felt her palms tingle as the words tumbled out of her mouth, the frying pan momentarily forgotten as she turned around and leaned against her countertop. "But it's about you. So... Of course I'd find it interesting."_

_Syaoran was silent, and Sakura chewed the inside of her lower lip, wondering if she'd said too much. _

_Her eyes widened when she heard an angry sizzle and a bitter smell filled her nostrils. She turned around quickly to see that her omelette was blackening along its edges and cursed loudly. _

"_Everything all right?" Syaoran asked._

"_I've gotta go. I'll call you back!"_

"_You burned the omelette, didn't you?"_

_Sakura narrowed her eyes, although she knew he couldn't see. "I'll call you back," she repeated through gritted teeth. In the brief second before she hung up, she heard Syaoran laughing on the other end of the line. _

_She felt a smile bloom on her lips even as she pulled the smoking pan off of the stove._

* * *

"Hey! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Syaoran turned around to see Meiling hurrying towards him, a smile on her face.

"You look nice," he commented.

"Thanks." She grinned. "So do you. I knew Tom Ford was a good idea."

Syaoran nodded absently.

Meiling's smile faded slowly as she examined his face more carefully. He looked weary. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he sighed.

"You saw Mizuki." Her eyes flashed in concern.

Syaoran responded by taking a long sip from his glass—not champagne, but a whiskey on the rocks from the bar.

"What happened?"

He shook his head as he swallowed the bitter liquid. "Nothing. We made eye contact, and then I walked in ahead of her."

"You didn't say anything?" Meiling asked.

"No," he responded, staring down at his glass. "I couldn't bring myself to. I was good otherwise, though," he added with a soft smirk.

Meiling smiled. "I'm sure you were. Thanks for making my job a little easier."

Syaoran said nothing, sipping quietly on his drink. His shoulders were practically up to his ears, he seemed so tense, Meiling thought.

"You saw each other on the red carpet?" she asked tentatively.

"Yeah. Right before the entrance."

"So the reporters saw?"

"Yes."

Meiling pursed her lips. "I see." That wasn't good. She didn't say so, but she knew that he knew this, too.

Syaoran took another swig from his glass and was quiet for a moment, staring out at the crowd, before he looked at her with tired eyes—but there was something kind, reassuring in them. Meiling felt unsettled, perhaps because she felt that _she_ needed to be the one reassuring him, not the other way around.

"Look," he began slowly. "Don't worry about it. All they could do is speculate that there was probably some kind of animosity between us, backed up by some 'anonymous sources' saying we're not on speaking terms or some other nonsense. But honestly, it's not that far from the truth."

Meiling swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched him speak, the way his brows slightly furrowed together and how his eyes shifted from the mass of people to the ground and back.

"And either way...I just can't get myself to give a fuck anymore," he muttered. He turned towards her, grim resolution set in his lips. "I don't care if the press thinks we're friends or if we're lovers or if we're enemies. We're not anything anymore, so why does it matter? They'll get over it eventually. They'll find someone else to make hell for."

"Syaoran..."

"I'll be fine," he said, anticipating the pity in her eyes. "I need to get over this already. It's been going on for too long, don't you think? I'm the one who's helping those reporters drag it out."

Meiling scrambled for something to say. "You've got to give yourself time—these things are complicated, and your situation especially—"

"Yeah, well... No one's really waiting patiently for me to untangle the knots," he said in a quiet voice, smiling ruefully.

Meiling felt a pang in her chest. She wished more than ever that she could give him what he needed—time, reassurance, a plan, a promise that everything would work out. His words were tough, but he suddenly looked extremely worn down.

"I'll be all right," he said more firmly. "I don't have a choice."

Meiling stared at him, feeling utterly helpless.

"Don't look at me like that," he laughed suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Like I just broke your heart."

He smiled tenderly at her. Somehow, it only made her feel worse.

"Well, you did, a little. You can't just say stuff like that, you know. It makes me sad," she responded softly. She tried to smile. "Syaoran... We'll figure it out—one thing at a time—"

"It's a party, Meiling. We should enjoy ourselves tonight."

She watched him for a moment longer, saw the determination in his face. _Not here. Neither of us can lose it here._ She nodded. "Right," she said softly. "We'll talk more tomorrow, then. You should go mingle. And behave yourself."

"You, too," Syaoran chuckled.

Meiling caught the burning in his eyes just before he turned away. She tried to ignore the way the image stabbed at her heart. Putting on a smile, she headed over to greet some of her former clients nearby.

* * *

_Sakura rolled over onto her right shoulder, letting out a frustrated exhale. No matter how long she lay in bed, sleep would simply not come._

_With a groan, she sat up. Reaching down onto the floor beside her bed, she pulled her laptop up onto her legs and opened it. She squinted against the brightness of the screen for a moment before her eyes adjusted. Pulling up her Internet browser, she searched Syaoran's radio interview and immediately found several links to it. _

_She clicked on the first link and hit the play button._

"_And we're back at 108.3, Miyo's Starlight Radio Show! Our special guest today is Syaoran Li, who has promised us an exciting special performance of an as-of-yet unheard song from his new album. Syaoran, would you like to introduce yourself to our listeners?"_

"_Hi, everyone, Syaoran here with Starlight Radio. I hope you're all doing well today."_

_Sakura leaned back into her pillow. Syaoran's voice was calm and cool, but a certain warmth under the collectedness made him very pleasant to listen to. She imagined any fan listening in would have felt quite soothed hearing his voice._

"_Syaoran, tell us a bit about your new album. What kind of approach did you take to it this time around?"_

"_Hm... Well, as you know, things have been a little messy for me this last year," he began._

"_Right, right."_

"_So the album plays out a bit like a storybook."_

"_A storybook? How so?"_

"_The way we're trying to arrange the songs—well, I've written all sorts of songs in the last year. Songs about love, songs about heartbreak, songs about betrayal and the weight of the world and feeling crushed underneath it. A few songs about moving on, and a couple about finding hope. They're all from personal experience. And the way we tried to arrange them was kind of in a storybook manner—beginning with contentedness, leading into pain and struggle and fighting it, and ending in hope. So you could say it's the most scattered album I've ever written, or the most cohesive, depending on how you look at it."_

"_Wow, that's very interesting," the radio host responded enthusiastically. "It sounds like it will be quite the emotional roller coaster."_

"_I'd say so," Syaoran responded, a slight hint of a laugh permeating his words. "I can only hope listeners are invested enough to take the ride with me."_

"_I'm sure they will be. But, Syaoran, I have a question about your explanation of the album."_

"_Sure."_

"_You said you wrote a couple of songs about... About finding hope. What do you mean by that?"_

"_What do you mean, what do I mean?"_

"_Well, could you be more specific? What brought about that hope? I hope you don't mind my saying this, but we know you went through a bit of a rough patch both romantically and professionally earlier this year, so—does this mean you've met someone who gave you a renewed sense of hope?"_

_There was a long silence. _

"_It appears I've asked Syaoran Li a question too difficult to answer," the DJ said, laughing._

_Syaoran chuckled. "I'm just trying to find the right way to answer it."_

"_Well, take your time."_

"_Hm... I wouldn't say it's just about having met someone. We can find hope in ourselves, too."_

"_But you sound as though you had someone help you find it?"_

_Syaoran paused before answering. "Sure. I did."_

"_Mind if I ask who?"_

"_I can't say. But that person gave me something priceless. It led me to find that hope in myself."_

"_What was that?"_

"_Well, I didn't know how badly I needed it until it was given to me, but around that person, I feel like I'm real."_

* * *

Tomoyo peered around the museum's ballroom over the rim of her champagne flute. The liquid pleasantly fizzed at her upper lip as she sipped it down.

She could scarcely believe the sight before her. In the midst of a grandly decorated ballroom stood a crowd of virtually every famous singer, actor, and designer of whom she had ever known, all dressed in finery and chattering with each other as if today were just any other day. To them, she supposed it was. She smiled to herself. She did wish Sakura were here to see this; even though she knew her friend was not the type to become starstruck, it was still a sight to see.

"Miss?"

Tomoyo turned with raised brows to meet the dark blue eyes of a man who, much to her shock, she felt she had seen before—and not in a music video or on a movie screen or even in the pages of a magazine. She was surprised; aside from the people from her work, who were mingling out in the crowd, she knew no one here. "Yes?"

The man smiled. The slight buzz in Tomoyo's head alerted her that he was very attractive, sapphire hair accentuating his grey, well-tailored suit quite nicely. _Then again,_ _who here _isn't_ incredibly attractive?_

Still, she mused, there was something about him that set him apart. And just why did he look so very familiar to her?

"Ah, I'm probably coming off a little weird here," the man muttered, seemingly to himself, before turning his pleasant gaze back to her. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Tomoyo bit her lip, but she found herself smiling through it as she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she laughed. "If it helps, I'm terrible with names and faces, but you look incredibly familiar to me."

"That's all right," the man smiled. He extended a hand. "My name is Eriol Hiiragizawa. I was one of your interviewers for your junior designer position at MIA."

"Ah," Tomoyo nodded. Her head dipped forward into a bow as she shook his hand. "I'm Tomoyo Daidouji. I'm so sorry—how unprofessional of me to forget—"

"Nonsense," Eriol laughed. "I hardly spoke a word the entire time. I was too impressed—so I remembered your interview quite well."

Tomoyo smiled. "Well, thank you. That's very kind of you to say." She paused. "Hiiragizawa—as in, Hiiragizawa publications?"

Eriol nodded. "My father's company. I'm the VP there at the moment."

"And that would explain why I haven't seen you around the MIA building," Tomoyo said. "You were a guest interviewer?"

"I owed the head designer a favor. She called me in to evaluate your work ethic."

Tomoyo laughed. "How was it?"

"I thought you'd do a splendid job, so I said yes."

"You're too kind," Tomoyo laughed. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same to you. So, what are you doing here in the corner by yourself?" Eriol asked, amusement evident in his voice. He reached behind him and picked up a champagne flute.

"I probably look pretty weird, don't I?"

"Nah," Eriol responded lightly. He paused. "Maybe a little."

Tomoyo shook her head and laughed again. "I figured as much. It's my first time at an event like this, and I figured I should admire the view. It's a beautiful room. Beautiful dresses. Beautiful people, too," she added.

Eriol smiled. "Indeed." He found himself just as charmed by her as he'd been the first time he met her. "Have you been enjoying the job, then?"

"I really have. It can be stressful, but mostly, it's like I'm living in a dream."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. It sounds like you were incredibly qualified for it."

"You really don't have to flatter me so much, Eriol. I'm pretty easygoing as it is." She turned violet eyes on him, and again, she appeared as though she were in on a secret that he didn't know.

He chuckled. "I mean all of it. I wouldn't call it flattery."

"Well, then, thank you," she responded, a hint of a smile ever-present on her lips. "How did you know I got the job?"

"I figured you would," he shrugged.

Tomoyo hid her surprise behind her champagne flute. The previous compliments had seemed almost too nice, perhaps with a hint of calculation to them, to really affect her, but somehow, she found herself relishing this particular offhanded comment of his. "Thank you," she repeated softly, turning towards him fully for the first time since he'd come up to her.

At that moment, Tomoyo's eyes widened to see Syaoran Li, unmistakable in the air of charisma about him and impeccably dressed, walking towards them. She noticed several head sin the room turn towards them as he approached, but apparently all too used to the attention, Syaoran managed to completely ignore it. He was looking directly at them, and Tomoyo wondered if he remembered her or if he just happened to be friends with Eriol.

"Eriol, there you are," Syaoran said, and his tone sounded oddly relieved.

Tomoyo smiled knowingly to herself. Of course he was friends with Eriol. He had only met her briefly, and it had been pitch-black when they had met each other, anyway.

"Syaoran," Eriol said jovially, clapping him on the back. "Good to see you made it in here alive."

Syaoran scoffed. "Barely," he muttered, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Tomoyo," he nodded to her. "Good to see you."

So he knew Eriol, _and_ he remembered her. She was impressed. "You, too," she responded, smiling at him. "You clean up nicely," she laughed.

Eriol's brows rose. "You two know each other?"

"We met a couple of weeks ago," Syaoran said, the corners of his lips tilting up. "She's a friend of Sakura's."

It was Tomoyo's turn to be surprised. "You know Sakura, Eriol?"

"Only through stories," Eriol said, and with a grin, he put an arm around Syaoran's shoulders. "Syaoran here gossips to me like a little girl."

Tomoyo arched a brow and laughed. "Oh, really?"

"I don't gossip," Syaoran grumbled, shrugging Eriol's arm off, although his expression wasn't entirely unamused. "So, wait—how do _you _guys know each other, then?"

Tomoyo explained Eriol's stint as a guest judge for her interview, and Syaoran nodded with familiarity. She observed him as he spoke to Eriol, how he made an effort to include her in their conversation, and how surprisingly down to earth both of them were for people of their stature. As Syaoran muttered something about having promised his manager that he'd go do some "mandatory mingling" with the other guests, he bid her farewell and told Eriol he'd see him later. Tomoyo he decided that she quite liked Syaoran Li both as a person and as a match for Sakura.

She also decided that Eriol Hiiragizawa was far more interesting than she had initially thought. He was a good companion for Syaoran, whom he explained he had known his whole life; his easygoing, cheerful, yet collected nature perfectly balanced out Syaoran's cooler, subtler, more powerful one. And he appeared extremely intelligent and naturally well-read, ready to speak on any topic but not overbearing in his conversation. He seemed immune to the industry's haughtiness, making self-deprecatory jokes about the inevitable stuffiness that came with these kinds of events and the people who attended them. And most of all, she thought it endearing that he was surrounded by famous, wealthy, beautiful people to talk to all night, and for some reason, he was sticking around the corner of the room, just talking to her.

Tomoyo found herself having a very good time, swept up in his conversation and in the glasses of fizzy, crisp champagne, so much that she forgot about joining the crowd so she could secretly catch glimpses of favorite movie stars as she'd originally planned to do. So when Eriol asked her if she'd like to step outside into the courtyard, she smiled, cheeks rosy from the champagne, that she could not think of a better idea.

* * *

"_Like you're real?" the DJ asked._

_Sakura felt her heart thudding furiously in her chest. She remembered Syaoran's eyes glowing in the light as he had watched her that morning, standing in her doorway. The pained, vulnerable, beautiful expression on his face as he'd said..._

"_Yes. Like I'm a real person."_

"_Could you please explain further?"_

"_Sometimes, when life becomes difficult or something bad has happened, we let ourselves get swallowed up in it. The problem becomes us. We try so hard to fix it, to find a solution, that we lose ourselves in the process. Suddenly we're not ourselves, we're just... Whatever anyone else wants us to be, so long as it'll make the difficulty subside. And we forget what made us important to the people we love, we forget what made us important to ourselves. That happened to me, and I felt like a wisp of a human being."_

"_I see," the DJ responded solemnly. "I understand. That's a good way to put it. I believe I've felt this way before, too."_

"_I think a lot of people have," Syaoran responded, his voice warm. "It's a trial of life. Once you've been through it, you're automatically bonded to the others who have experienced it, too. Without even knowing them, you know their pain."_

"_But this person made you remember yourself?"_

"_Something like that. Just reminded me that I'm more than that wisp. That I'm real."_

"_That's very moving. Is it someone we know of?"_

"_I'm really not at liberty to say."_

"_I understand," the DJ said, laughing. "I won't push it. But is there anything else you'd like to add about any of that?"_

"_Well... Needless to say, that person is very important to me. And I hope I can only give back half as much as what that person has given me."_

* * *

The party wore on, guests becoming progressively drunker and more sociable. The lights dimmed, the music turned up, and people began to dance.

Syaoran played his part well, socializing with old colleagues and fellow actors and singers he had met during his recent variety stints. In pretending like nothing was wrong, he found, it was actually quite easy to feel like he was having a good time.

The hours passed quickly, and he was enjoying himself all the more when he realized how much fun Meiling and Eriol seemed to be having as well. Meiling was hilariously drunk, something that happened only once every few months, her rigid sense of business finally leaving her and a permanent grin fixed on her lips as she danced wildly with Hiromu Mineki, a typically reserved actor whom she'd met at an event two years ago and initially despised for what she called his "stick-up-the-ass attitude." Eriol, by Syaoran's observation, had not left Tomoyo's side all night, and Syaoran wondered to himself where that relationship would go. They seemed absurdly well-matched, both pleasant and intelligent and sophisticated, but each very lively as well.

And although he'd occasionally catch a glimpse of Mizuki's blue ball gown or her silvery blonde hair, she'd be gone just as quickly, and it was not at all difficult to avoid her entirely.

And so when he finally stepped outside to leave, phoning his driver, Wei, to come meet him in the back lot exit area, and briefly mulling over the idea of calling Sakura to see if she was asleep, he found himself caught off guard to see that Mizuki was also outside, surrounded by paparazzi who were no doubt unauthorized to be on the premises. She struggled helplessly against the circle of photographers as the flashbulbs went off one after the other, her eyes squinting as she held up her arms to cover her face. Their shouts overpowered her own pleas for them to leave her alone.

Syaoran felt his hand curl automatically into a fist as rage built inside his chest. And before he knew what he was doing, he was running down the steps two at a time, pushing through the wall of paparazzi, who became even more frenzied, and grabbing Mizuki's hand before pulling her out of the crowd.

* * *

_Sakura's breath hitched. She clicked on the dial of the video and pushed it back a few seconds, trying to make sure she had heard right. Surely... Surely he wasn't talking about her._

"_Well, I didn't know how badly I needed it until it was given to me, but around that person, I feel like I'm real."_

_She listened in a daze as the replay continued. Surely it wasn't about her, she thought again. But unless he ran around saying that to everyone... _

"_That person is very important to me."_

_Syaoran had told her she wouldn't be interested in this interview... Had he wanted her to listen, after all? She felt a burning sensation in her chest as she continued to wonder. _

"_Now, we're going to take a break from the interview so that Syaoran can give us an exclusive listen to one of his songs off of his upcoming album! Syaoran, tell us a bit about this song you're going to play."_

"_It's called 'Today.' It's a slow song, a little different from the usual," Syaoran said. "That person I mentioned—"_

"_The one who made you feel 'real,'" the DJ clarified._

"_Yes. That person—told me, when I first played it, that it sounded 'special,'" he chuckled. "I kind of liked it, too. We're thinking about using it as a follow-up single for the album."_

_Sakura held her breath. It couldn't be, she thought. _

_But as the familiar chords of the piano began to spill out of her laptop's speakers and Syaoran's rough, soothing voice came in softly, she knew. This was the same song. _

_He had been talking about her. _

_For some reason, Sakura felt her eyes well up, and she smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. _

_Perhaps it didn't mean nearly as much as she hoped it did, but she didn't care. Syaoran had called her important, had said—on national radio—that she had given him something priceless. She had, in some small way, been able to make him happy, able to make him feel a little less broken. It was more than she could ever have asked for. _

_And she knew then, without question, that she was impossibly in love with Syaoran Li._

* * *

Syaoran knew that the paparazzi had captured photographs of every millisecond of the incident, but in the rush of the moment, he did not care. Mizuki stared at him with wide eyes, but she didn't question his actions. A black car sped up to the lot, and as he opened the door, they fell into the car. Syaoran shut the door before photographers could get any more pictures, and he shouted at Wei to drive fast.

As the car zoomed through the streets, Syaoran fell back against his seat, panting.

"Syaoran," Mizuki murmured. She struggled for words. "I—um... Thank you," she said sincerely.

He nodded, trying to catch his breath. "You okay?"

Mizuki nodded.

"Same address, right?"

Her brows rose. "Pardon?"

"I need to give your address to Wei. You live at the same place, still, don't you?"

"Ah," she said softly. "Yeah. I do."

Syaoran leaned up to the driver's seat and gave Wei the address with which he had been so familiar in the last two years. The significance of that did not escape Mizuki, whose gaze was suddenly torn.

Syaoran did not address the matter, and Mizuki apparently could not bring herself to speak. They were quiet the entire car ride, Syaoran's mind abuzz with the adrenaline of the moment and questions of the inevitable press fallout that would come. They reached the gated apartment complex relatively quickly, and still no words had been exchanged between them. Syaoran got out of the car to open Mizuki's door and helped her out, not meeting her eyes.

"Well... I'll see you," he said quietly.

"Syaoran... Can't we talk for just a minute?"

Syaoran swallowed before finally looking at her face, trying to ignore the concern in her eyes.

She moved up closer to him, heels clicking against the cobblestone ground, satin swishing against her legs. "Um... How are you?"

"I'm okay," he responded, his voice low. "I'm fine."

"I see," she answered, staring down at the ground. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"Yeah."

"Um... Really, thank you. I don't—I don't know what I would have done back there without—"

"It's nothing."

"Syaoran..."

He watched her face, emotions contorting her expression rapidly from confusion to sadness and back again. He sighed. "Mizuki, you looked like you were in trouble, so I helped you out. It didn't mean anything. Anyone would've done it."

"You can't tell me that and expect me to believe it," Mizuki cried.

He shook his head. "Mizuki... What are you doing?"

She looked up at him, eyes watery. From the way she was speaking, he knew she wasn't drunk, but he could tell that she had been drinking a bit.

"Why can't you just let it be?" he asked softly, his voice almost pleading.

She reached a hand up to his face, her palm against his cheek. He didn't lean into her touch, but he didn't move away. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you," she whispered.

"But why?" he asked, his voice rough. "Why now? After it's all been said and done—after all the _shit_ I had to go through, Mizuki, why?"

She let out a sob. Her hand left his face to wipe her eyes. "I don't know," she gasped. "Because I don't like seeing you crucified, or crucifying yourself, and I never expected it to be so bad—"

"You didn't _expect for it to_—Mizuki, what did you think was going to happen?" he said, his voice rising. "That everyone would just accept things as they were, just let it go? You know better than that!" he shouted.

Mizuki covered her mouth with her hand, tears coursing down her face.

"And you know what?" he muttered. "None of it would have mattered. I wouldn't have given a fuck what anyone thought about me, what anyone thought I did, if you had just stayed. Because I only needed you to believe in me."

"I know, and I—I don't even know what I believed then, but there was just so much pressure... And I was only thinking about myself and my career, and I was being selfish, but—Syaoran, I'm so, so sorry," she sobbed. "You have to know that. I'm _so_ sorry. I never wanted to hurt you like this."

Syaoran felt like he was being stabbed over and over, watching her like this. He shut his eyes, and in spite of himself, he reached out toward her face. At the last second, he stopped himself, sighing and letting his hand down.

"I'm not angry anymore," he said quietly. "If you're sorry, I'm not angry anymore."

She stared up at him through her tears, and he felt regret as soon as he saw the hope in her eyes.

He swallowed. "But things will never be the same between us... Mizuki, you can't be the one to put me back together again. It doesn't work that way."

Her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together, and he knew she was trying to hold back more tears.

His gaze softened. "Look," he said, his voice uneven. "I still care about you. I don't want to see you in pain. So, Mizuki, if you still love me... Don't. Please. Because that only means you'll keep hurting."

"Syaoran..." Mizuki let out a shaky exhale. She shook her head. "You don't love me anymore?"

Syaoran laughed mirthlessly. "That's a stupid question."

Mizuki glared up at him, but she felt a shock when his eyes met hers and she saw that his gaze was tender, dearly familiar.

"We went through a lot together," he said softly. "But I'm trying to let it go. If you care about me at all... Please don't stop me."

Mizuki nodded, face contorting with her tears. Mascara left faint black trails down either side of her cheeks.

With a sigh, Syaoran pulled her into a last hug. "I'll see you around," he murmured, and he let her go and headed back into the car. He watched her silhouette in the rearview mirror grow smaller and smaller, until they had passed a hill and she was gone for good.

* * *

That's it for chapter nineteen! Whew. What a whirlwind. I'm posting in a hurry per usual, so please let me know if you see any inconsistencies!

I know the formatting of this chapter was really weird, what with the flashbacks and all, but I kind of wanted to give a glimpse of what really sealed the deal for Sakura, for her to come to terms with her feelings the way she did in the last chapter. And also give a hint as to what Syaoran's feeling towards her. And, since she was pretty much asleep for most of the time the party was going on, this was a nice way to include her in the chapter, haha. I hope it wasn't too confusing! I know Syaoran did a lot of things here that we wouldn't want him to do out of loyalty to Sakura, but what can I say? He's a good guy, and Mizuki was his first love. It doesn't just go away so easily. But I hope the way the chapter ended was satisfactory!

Thank you guys, as always, for your reviews on the last chapter. You really are so good to me, too good to me. You never fail to make me want to keep improving my writing, but you also never fail to make me feel good about what I've written. I really appreciate that. In Syaoran's words, you guys have given me a priceless thing! And a special shout-out to myvroses and xxXandraaLingxxx, who review each chapter without fail and always leave me such wonderful comments. I always really look forward to your reviews!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading, and please review!

Love,

boreum dal


	20. need you

**radio star**

xx. need you

Syaoran rested against his seat, one elbow propped up onto the windowsill of the car door and his chin resting in his hand. The familiar route to his condo passed by in a blur, lights of the cityscape molding together in continuous illuminated lines. He glanced at his watch, which read 2:30 a.m., and noted absently that Meiling and Eriol were probably still at the ball, as the party would undoubtedly last until at least five in the morning. His eyes stung with sleepiness as he leaned his head back. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

The teary, broken expression on Mizuki's face was etched into his mind's eye. He felt absolute certainty that he had done the right thing—but that feeling was buried under layers of regret and a strange, potent heartache. When Mizuki had first ended their relationship, Syaoran had briefly entertained the fantasy of hurting her as badly as she had hurt him. Now that he had managed to do so, he felt miserable.

"Master Li."

"Hm?" Syaoran opened his eyes, not realizing he had even closed them.

Wei glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Excuse me if it's not my place to ask, but I was wondering if everything is all right."

"Oh," Syaoran murmured. He thought about lying, but Wei had known him since he was just a child; Syaoran wasn't sure if he could get away with lying to him. "Not really," he answered quietly, but his mouth formed a crooked smile. "Thanks, though."

"I know it's been a strange year for you, Master Li. Might I suggest a visit home sometime, perhaps? It might do you good to see your mother."

Syaoran laughed in spite of himself. "You're suggesting I run home to my mother?"

Wei smiled. "It isn't the shameful matter you make it out to be. Even old men run home to their mothers every once in a while, if they can."

"It's not a half-bad idea," Syaoran muttered. He did miss Hong Kong. He hadn't seen his family in over a year, between dealing with his scandals and his schedule. "Maybe soon."

Wei nodded.

Syaoran glanced at his phone, which was brimming with messages from people he had seen tonight at the party. It was nice, he thought, to feel connected to his colleagues once again—he hadn't realized how lonely his industry isolation had been until he had been forced into socializing again during his promotional rounds. But somehow, after all that had happened tonight, even with all of the people he'd seen, he felt a vast, profound hollowness inside of his chest.

Frowning, he stared again at the time on his phone. He wished it weren't so late. In all likelihood, Sakura was asleep.

Pursing his lips, he decided he could at least send her a text message.

_I hope your night went well. Sorry we didn't talk tonight._

Syaoran deleted the message before he could send it, sighing frustratedly. That sounded stupid. And really, he thought, was it right of him to go running to Sakura because he was sad about his ex-girlfriend? Somehow, that sounded childish—more angsty teenager than grown man—to him.

But just as he was about to put his phone back into his pocket, he felt it vibrate in his hand, and he looked down at it to see that he had, much to his surprise, a new message from Sakura Kinomoto.

_I meant to text you earlier to say I hoped you were having a good time, but I fell asleep! Just woke up for a second for some reason and thought I'd say it now._

Syaoran felt the slightest lift of the weight in his chest. A corner of his lips tilted up. _Thanks_, he texted back. And then, as an afterthought, he sent another: _Go back to bed._

Only seconds later, he received a response. _Pfft. What are you doing texting me? Quit being anti-social! Get off of your phone and go party. Tomoyo is around there somewhere. You should find her._

He chuckled. _I'm not at the party anymore. I left._

_Eh? _Sakura responded. _Why? Tomoyo said it'd probably go until the morning..._

_I was feeling a bit strange_, Syaoran wrote back. He frowned, knowing he was being irritatingly vague, but at least it wasn't a lie.

_Everything okay?_ Sakura asked.

Syaoran sighed. He really did wish he could see her. He couldn't even begin to explain why. It went beyond feeling normal. He wanted to feel more than normal—he wanted to feel not alone.

_I'm fine_, he tapped out. _Go to sleep, Sakura. It's late._

For minutes, Sakura did not respond, and Syaoran wondered if he'd come off a bit harsh in his words. He stared at his phone, mulling over the idea of texting her again and apologizing, when the screen lit up and Sakura's name came up on the screen. What was she doing, calling him? He slid his thumb across the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"You know, most normal people go right back to sleep if they've woken up in the middle of the night," Syaoran said into the phone.

"Hey," Sakura's voice came through the speaker, soft from sleep and concern.

Almost instantly, he felt deep, painful relief—like someone had given him an oxygen mask just as he was about to suffocate.

"Hi," he said.

"Are you all right?"

"I told you I was fine," Syaoran responded in spite of the sudden rush he felt, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.

Sakura was quiet for a moment, and Syaoran wondered if she was still there when she finally said, "You sound sad."

His brow furrowed. Did he, really? "I'm tired," he answered quietly.

"Hm," Sakura answered, and Syaoran couldn't tell if she had bought it. Still, much to his relief, she chose to pursue normal conversation. "How was the party, then?"

"It was good. I saw a lot of people. I saw Tomoyo."

"Oh!" Sakura said, her voice rising in delight. "Did you, really? How was that?"

"She's weirdly cheerful," Syaoran admitted.

Sakura laughed. "Yeah, that would be Tomoyo."

"She got along really well with my friend."

"Oh, really? Who?"

"Eriol."

There was a pause. "Eriol? Hiiragizawa?"

Syaoran chuckled. "The one and only."

"No way. You're lying."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"Oh, my _God_," Sakura murmured to herself. "Oh, my God! I wish it were tomorrow already so I could call her!"

Syaoran smiled to himself. He didn't understand how, but this nonsensical as this conversation was, it dulled the aching in his chest considerably.

Sakura sighed into the phone. "So, what are you going to do now, then, if you've left the party?"

Syaoran snorted. "It's almost three in the morning. I'll probably go to sleep. Speaking of which, you should—"

"If I haven't gotten off the phone yet, what makes you think I'll listen to you now?" Sakura chided playfully. She paused, and when she spoke again, her tone was more somber. "Syaoran."

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're all right? Maybe it's because I just woke up, but you sound so worn down."

Syaoran didn't know how to answer that. He had every right to tell her that he wasn't up to talking about it, but that was also a lie. For some reason, he wanted nothing more than to go to her tiny apartment and sit cross-legged on her couch and tell her about his night, Mizuki and all, over a cup of tea.

He let out an exhale that resembled something of a laugh. "Nothing escapes you, does it? Some stuff happened tonight. And... I feel kind of..." He paused uncomfortably, looking out the window. He really wasn't used to being so honest in regard to his feelings with anyone, save perhaps for Mizuki. "I feel kind of empty." He swallowed.

He felt great relief when Sakura made no pitying remarks—not that he had particularly expected them from her. Nor did she ask what had happened, which he appreciated, strangely enough.

"Hm... You know, when I feel that way, sometimes it just helps to be around someone. I wonder if it'd be the same for you?" Sakura mused softly.

"Yeah," Syaoran admitted.

"Well, I'm sure you've got plenty of people you can call, but in case you don't... I know it's late, but you're—" Sakura hesitated for a moment, but the unspoken words were already out in the open. "You're welcome to come here. I could make you some tea. We could talk about it. Or not talk about it. Whatever you want."

Syaoran smiled. Somehow, he was not surprised that she had practically read his mind. "There's no chance I can convince you to go back to bed now, is there?"

Sakura giggled. "Probably not. Not until I know you're okay, anyway."

Syaoran sighed and stared out the window, pursing his lips. They were close to his condo now. "Okay. Give me twenty minutes."

* * *

Tomoyo smiled into Eriol's shoulder as her feet moved in time with his. After a deluge of fast party music, the DJ had finally opted to play an old slow song, and Eriol had asked her to dance. Much to her surprise, he had admitted sheepishly that he wasn't a very good dancer—for some reason, Tomoyo had thought he seemed like the type who would have taken a swing or waltz class or two growing up—but she had said they could just sway from side to side if he'd like. "Like high school," she had said with a laugh.

Now that she had a moment to think, she reflected on how nice tonight had been. It was like something out of a dream, meeting so many people she had idolized and admired, everyone in incredibly high spirits as the music played and the champagne flowed. The designer in her also appreciated the lovely aesthetics of the night, as everyone wore gowns with gorgeous silhouettes and colors and material, and the venue itself appeared to have been modeled after the overt finery of Versailles.

And of course, there was the company; although Tomoyo would not have minded spending the evening observing on her own, she enjoyed Eriol's continuous presence. On top of his appealing surface qualities, he was a truly kind person, she thought. Earlier in the night, he had introduced her to his actual date, Meiling, who had smiled and insisted, much to Tomoyo's amusement and Eriol's apparent exasperation, that they had only come as friends. Meiling appeared to be quite intoxicated, and although Eriol had stayed around Tomoyo all night, he excused himself frequently to go check on Meiling and make sure she was okay. "She's Syaoran's manager and cousin, and if anything happens to her, he'll probably behead me," Eriol had explained, but Tomoyo had watched with a smile as he hovered protectively around Meiling. She was fairly certain that his behavior came more from a caring nature than a sense of obligation.

He also seemed to be fairly popular among the industry despite his attitude towards the society, Tomoyo noticed; all night, people—movie stars, singers, comedians, designers, media gurus—had come up to greet Eriol and make conversation, all approaching him when he hadn't even done so much as to bat an eye at them. And yet, somehow, he didn't appear to have a big head at all. Tomoyo wondered if this was because of the responsibility he bore as the Vice President of such a big publishing company at a young age; it certainly seemed like enough to ground someone.

And so, although Tomoyo would never think of herself as the kind of person who would jump the gun on many matters, especially not love or relationships, she did think it safe to say that she was, at the very least, charmed by Eriol. Even the cheesy part of him that should have been off-puttingly charming was just...charming.

"So, have you had fun tonight?" Tomoyo felt Eriol's voice rumbling in his chest.

"Mmhm," Tomoyo responded. She pulled back to look at his face. "Even more than I thought I would, which is really saying something."

Eriol smiled. "Good. I'm glad. Sorry if I hijacked your evening."

Tomoyo laughed and shook her head. "You didn't. It was really nice, getting to know you. You're... different from what I imagined someone like you would be."

Eriol raised a brow. "Someone like me?"

Tomoyo shrugged, one corner of her lips still tilting up in a self-aware smile. "You know. Not normal, in the good way. Above average in most respects," she laughed.

Eriol shook his head, smile stretched wide across his face. "That's funny. I wouldn't say I'm above average in many respects at all." He pulled her back into his shoulder, swaying to the music. "You, on the other hand..."

Tomoyo laughed. "Very smooth, Eriol." But as she felt him laugh along, she buried her face into his shoulder to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks.

* * *

Sakura rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she stood over her stove, the heat of the boiling water rising up and curling pleasantly around her face in tendrils. She frowned as she recalled her conversation with Syaoran. While he hadn't sounded _upset_, he hadn't sounded well. His voice had been laced with exhaustion and, Sakura thought, perhaps some kind of resignation. She wondered what had happened at the party to make him that way. Perhaps he had had a bad run-in with the media—or maybe he had seen Mizuki Akizawa and things had not ended well for them.

Although she felt an undeniable curiosity over what had occurred between Syaoran and Mizuki in his studio several weeks ago, Sakura never asked, feeling that it was not within her rights. She only knew that that that night, he had texted her, and the next night, he had spent the night at her apartment. He had not once mentioned Mizuki in that time or since. But Sakura had thought that occasionally during their phone conversations over the next two weeks, he'd sounded exhausted beyond just physical tiredness, although not to the extent that he had tonight.

The teapot whistled, and Sakura absently reached over to the dial to turn down the heat. While some parts of Syaoran were still such a mystery to her, she wondered if his feelings regarding Mizuki were similar to those she'd once held for Isamu. His expression when she had walked into the studio had certainly indicated something like that.

If that was the case, Sakura felt that she didn't need an explanation to understand that part of him. If that was the case, she thought, she knew at least an inkling of the kind of pain he was going through, and it hurt her to think he was experiencing such a thing. He felt _empty_, he'd said. She knew that feeling, of the desperation that followed in trying to fill that inexplicable void with anything. Often, that desperation only led to filling it with anxiety and self-doubt. She did not want Syaoran to face that kind of trial, particularly on top of his other issues. That she had such strong feelings for him—_love_ for him, as she had realized only a week ago—only amplified how desperately she wanted him not to hurt.

Sakura heard a soft knock on her door, bringing her out of her thoughts. Despite the somber context of the evening, she felt her heart pound wildly—foolishly—at the thought of seeing him—the first time she'd see him since listening to his radio interview.

For some reason, she wasn't quite sure what to expect, and so when she headed to her front door and turned the knob, she felt the air leave her lungs as she met his eyes—so soft that they seemed almost blurred around the edges and so very vulnerable.

"Syaoran," she breathed.

"Hey," he said quietly, and despite the pained expression in his eyes, he glanced over her for a moment and smirked. "Nice getup."

Sakura looked down at her clothes, realizing she'd forgotten how to change out of her pajamas—a large t-shirt with a cartoon teddy bear pattern on it and pastel boxer shorts—and blushed. Still, she felt a small relief that he still had it in him to joke, no matter what had happened to him. "Not fair," she pouted. "This was all very sudden, you know, and I didn't have time to change."

He chuckled, and the aching appeared to leave him a bit. "I'm kidding. Could I come in?"

"Oh—right, yeah," Sakura responded hurriedly. She led him into the living room and sat him down before running back into the kitchen to grab the tea.

"So," she said, sitting down on the seat beside him and angling her body towards him, one leg folded up on the seat and the other hanging down off of the couch. She searched his eyes as her heartbeat managed to resume a normal pace. Her feelings weren't all that different, she realized; she had simply been able to put a name on them. Everything else was still the same, much to her relief.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Syaoran murmured, staring down into his cup.

"You didn't, though," Sakura reminded him. "I'm the one who woke up and texted you."

"Ah. Right." He raised the cup to his lips and took a sip. He raised his eyes and lifted the corners of his lips. "Then, thanks for letting me come over here at—" he glanced at the clock— "three in the morning."

Sakura felt the breath leave her at his smile, but she played it off with a shrug. "It's becoming something of a routine, isn't it?"

He chuckled. "I guess it is. So long as it doesn't bother you..."

"Don't be silly. You know I like the company."

"Good, then." He pulled his legs up onto the seat, crossing them, before turning towards her, almost mirroring her pose.

"You came straight from the party?" Sakura asked, tilting her head to the side. Syaoran was still dressed in remnants of his formalwear—slim black dress slacks, a white shirt without a tie, the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up. His hair looked mussed out of what appeared to have been a gelled-back style. And yet, somehow, she thought, he still looked good.

"Yeah. I stopped by home for a moment so I could get my car—Wei, my driver, picked me up from the party."

"You didn't drink?" Sakura's eyes lit up in amusement. "Tomoyo has been texting me all night about how wonderful the champagne fountain is."

Syaoran laughed. "No champagne, actually. Just a glass of whiskey earlier in the night, but I'm sober. I didn't feel very up to it. I'm actually pretty bad at drinking," he admitted.

"Well, don't feel bad. You saw that I'm not the best at holding my liquor, either."

"Yeah, you were something else when you were drunk." Syaoran shook his head and grinned to himself.

"What?" Sakura frowned. "You never did go into detail about what I did that night. Was it that embarrassing?"

"No, not really," Syaoran said with a laugh. "You were just really... childlike. It was pretty funny."

Sakura pursed her lips dubiously. "Well, if you say so."

They were quiet for a moment, both sipping their tea and Sakura wondering what exactly she should say, before Syaoran spoke again, voice halting slightly.

"You know... That night, I had been hoping being around you would get my mind off of a few things. It's a good thing you're so accident-prone, because it worked."

"You wanted to get your mind off of stuff?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of stuff?"

Syaoran hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "Mizuki and I got into a bit of a fight that day."

"Ah," Sakura responded, a frown on her lips. Her brows turned up in concern. "Did you make up?"

"Mm..." Syaoran pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Not really. I saw her tonight, too, you see... She was being hounded by paparazzi, and I just felt so _angry_, and I pulled her out of there and got my driver to take her home. So... We had some time to talk."

Sakura wondered what exactly she was feeling. The expression on Syaoran's face, lips turned slightly down, eyes soft and downcast, brow furrowed, looked so suddenly heartbreaking that she would have given anything—even if it meant him saying that he and Mizuki had indeed made up and decided to get back together—to make it disappear. A strange mixture of pain and hope brewed in her heart.

"And..." Syaoran wrapped his hands around his mug, holding it in the space between his crossed legs. "Well, last time, she told me she still loved me."

Sakura's eyes widened in shock. She had expected Syaoran to pine, naturally, but for some reason, it surprised her that Mizuki had been the one to break. His eyes flickered up to meet hers. She nodded, waiting for him to go on.

"And this time... She told me she was sorry." He bit the inside of his lower lip and pulled at it slightly with his teeth, a nervous tic that Sakura thought uncharacteristic of him. "So... That should have been enough, right?"

Sakura felt her heart sinking. The wind was knocked out of her all over again for the wrong reasons, but numbly, she nodded. If that was what he wanted— "Right," she breathed.

_Really_, she thought, shutting her eyes, _I just want him to be so, so happy._

"And somehow, it wasn't," Syaoran said softly.

Sakura opened her eyes and watched him in wonder, shocked all over again. Her body felt hot and cold all at once. She swallowed. "Why not?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. He looked at her, warm orange-brown eyes suddenly tender as they searched hers. "I... Somehow, I don't feel like it would ever be the same."

Sakura did not avert her gaze. Briefly, she placed herself in Syaoran's shoes—if Isamu had come to her and told her that he was sorry for breaking her heart, that he wanted to try again, what would she do? She felt herself examining every detail of Syaoran's eyes, memorizing the warmth and the light and the color in them. They really were beautiful, she thought.

By this point, she knew what she'd tell Isamu. _It's too late. I'm changed forever. I'm not the same girl._ And... _I love someone else. _

_Even if he doesn't feel the same way about me._

Sakura nodded. "That makes sense."

"Does it?" Syaoran let out a soft chuckle, just a few exhales accompanied by a small smile. "That's good. Because I feel like I'm insane."

"I don't—I don't think you're insane."

"Thanks, Sakura," he said. His eyes fell to his glass again.

Sakura leaned over on her hands, unaware of her own movement. "Syaoran... Are you okay?"

Syaoran shook his head, eyes still lowered. "I don't think so," he responded, smiling ruefully.

"You're sad," Sakura noted quietly, green eyes large as she watched him.

"A little," he whispered. "I don't even know why. I think I really hurt her. I feel like a terrible person. And now... Now I'm telling you about it like an idiot, keeping you up—"

He paused, words leaving him when he felt Sakura's fingers, cool and soft, running along his cheek. He swallowed hard, relishing the tingling they left behind, and met bright green eyes.

"Sakura?" he whispered, unsure of how to react.

"I wish you weren't sad," she murmured. "I wish I could make it better."

Syaoran held his breath. They were so close, he thought, and Sakura looked beautiful. He could see her eyes searching his face, passing over his eyes and down to his lips, lingering for a moment before going back up to his eyes. Syaoran had to stop himself from saying out loud that she could, in fact, make it much better. He had no idea what kind of state of mind he was in, and this was a vulnerable moment. Perhaps it wasn't the right time.

So instead, he leaned forward, and he hesitated only for a moment before laying his head in the crook of her neck, shutting his eyes and inhaling the scent of her—pleasant, floral, almost dreamy. He felt her stiffen for a moment in surprise, but he smiled slightly when he felt her relax and rest her cheek against his head.

_Oh my God oh my God oh my God._

Sakura felt her heart drumming at an unbearably quick pace. She felt like she was so high up that falling at this point would kill her—exhilarating and terrifying all at once. The whole room suddenly seemed to move around her, and so she shut her eyes as well and focused on the feeling of Syaoran's breaths coming in and out against her collarbone.

They stayed like this for some time, so still and so quiet and so content that neither wanted to pull away and disturb the peace—but Syaoran knew that it had to end sometime, and so he finally lifted his head with a soft exhale, and Sakura pulled back dazedly as well.

"Uh... Sorry about that," he said quietly. "I just..."

Sakura shook her head. "No, it's okay. You just needed someone."

Syaoran nodded. He wanted to tell her that she had been better than just someone, but this line between them was so blurry lately that he didn't know what crossed it and what didn't. He held his tongue.

But Sakura was the one to cross the line they had drawn. She knew it was bold, but perhaps because she so desperately wanted to get rid of the hurt in Syaoran's eyes, she didn't care. "Syaoran... Stay here tonight."

His eyebrows rose up in surprise, but he didn't say no. "Sakura—"

"I mean," Sakura said quickly, softly, looking away from him, "if you go home, you'd be all alone, right? And you... I just don't want you to be so sad. I don't want you to feel like you're in this by yourself. And you don't have to, of course. But... If you don't want to feel alone," she said, bringing her eyes up to his once more, "just...stay here."

Syaoran weighed this in his head. After ending it completely with Mizuki tonight, he knew it was probably best to go home and reflect. He knew it was probably not in his best interest to stay the night at the apartment of another girl, particularly one towards whom he felt an undeniable attraction. But Sakura was right. He felt so very alone. And everyone else who could have made for good company was still at the ball... He envisioned going home and rolling around in his own bed restlessly, unable to sleep until the sun arose and pure exhaustion finally claimed him. It seemed terrible.

He let out a soft exhale. "Okay."

Sakura smiled at him and nodded, and for some reason, he suddenly felt weak with relief. He hadn't realized that he even wanted this until she had suggested it.

"You can take my bed," Sakura said, glancing over at the clock. "I'll go get some extra blankets—"

Syaoran grabbed her wrist before she could get up and walk away. "Don't be absurd. It's your house. I'll take the couch."

"Yeah, but you're a guest."

Both of them paused as their eyes settled on each other. The question remained unspoken, but it was certainly there—

"If... If you don't mind," Sakura murmured, looking down at her feet, "we... I mean... you—"

"Both of us. In your bed, right?" Syaoran asked, voice cautious. It was strange; while he was no stranger to sleeping with other women, it seemed different with Sakura—like he wanted to be extra careful, as though he could break something between them if he weren't.

Sakura nodded. "Just to sleep," she added hastily. "But... That way..." she shrugged. "We could chat, you know. Until you fall asleep."

Syaoran nodded, a soft smile on his lips. "Yeah. That would be nice."

* * *

Tomoyo sat alone on the side of the ballroom, watching Eriol chat with Meiling. Although her night had been more wonderful than she could have dreamed, she was exhausted from all the dancing and the socializing and the drinking so late into the night. A quick glance at her phone told her that it was almost four in the morning. Wryly, she mused that she could never be a famous person if it meant staying out so late all the time.

"Tomoyo!"

Tomoyo looked up from her phone to see one of her co-workers, Riko, walking towards her before sitting down beside her.

"Hi, Riko," Tomoyo said with a smile. Riko was close to Tomoyo's age and relatively new in the fashion industry, and so the two had formed a bond from the first day of work. "Enjoying the party?"

"Oh, my God, _yes_," Riko grinned. "I've never been to anything like this in my life!"

"Me, either."

"Really? You sure are a natural, though. Twenty minutes in and you got a guy on your arm for the rest of the night!" Riko said slyly, casting a glance over to Eriol.

Tomoyo bit her lip, but she laughed through it. "We've met before."

"_Really_? Who is he? He's so good-looking!"

"Well, he's the vice president of Hiiragizawa Publications," Tomoyo replied, "but he was a guest when I interviewed for my job."

"Oooh. Well, did you give him your number?"

Tomoyo shook her head. "He hasn't asked."

"Tomoyo!" Riko scoffed. "I thought you were a forward type."

"Only when the situation calls for it," Tomoyo laughed. "I feel like I should just let this play out naturally, for some reason. I don't want it to feel...forced."

Riko shrugged. "Whatever you say. We're leaving in ten minutes, so go tell your man goodbye! And leave an impression."

Tomoyo laughed and swatted at Riko on the arm before standing up and walking over to Eriol.

"Ah—Eriol, I hate to interrupt, but I think I have to go in a few minutes," Tomoyo murmured to him from behind.

Eriol turned around. His eyebrows rose up in surprise. "So soon?"

Tomoyo laughed. "It's four in the morning!"

Eriol pursed his lips a moment, pausing to think to himself. "Tell you what—if you can wait a few minutes, I could probably take you home."

Tomoyo gaped. "Really? But—I mean, I have a ride—"

"Really," Eriol responded, eyes kind. "I don't know about you, but I just don't feel like saying goodbye yet."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Tomoyo smiled. "Okay. Let me go tell my co-workers."

* * *

Sakura lay on her stomach, arms tucked underneath her chest as she listened to the low, pleasant timbre of Syaoran's voice and felt it vibrate through the mattress onto the cheek that she pressed to her bed. She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep tonight, because a strange, excited ache brewed in the pit of her stomach, leaving her feeling wide awake.

This all felt strangely normal to her—staring into warm, deep eyes that stared back into her own, listening to him talk about his childhood and his life before fame, his friendship with Eriol, even about how he met Mizuki, as he lay in her bed, also on his stomach, head cradled in his arms. His face was mere inches away from hers, but their bodies did not touch; although she had no idea what she had done when she had been intoxicated, she didn't dare reach out to him now. The entire evening had seemed so very fragile, and she felt a slight terror that if she reached out too far, she would shatter everything.

"What are you thinking?" Syaoran asked after a long moment of quiet.

"Mm... Just that it's weird, but this all just feels very normal to me, for some reason," Sakura murmured back, a smile on her lips.

"What, this? Us sleeping together?"

Sakura nodded.

"Well... It _is_ the third time," Syaoran said, amusement tinting his voice. "Even if you hardly remember the first two."

Sakura giggled. "That might explain it. Are you feeling a little better, now?"

He nodded. "Thanks for letting me stay here."

"Thank you for staying," Sakura responded, voice soft. "Really."

He turned onto his side, facing her, and Sakura realized suddenly just how close he was. If she scooted any closer, they wouldn't have had to do much more than move their heads to kiss. Quickly, she banished the thought from her mind. He kept his eyes trained on hers, hardly even blinking, and Sakura found herself unnerved.

"What?" she murmured.

The smile had not quite yet died down from his face. "I don't know. You know... I felt so tired when I got here, and now it's..." He lifted his head slightly to look at the clock on Sakura's nightstand. "Almost five in the morning, and I don't know if I can sleep."

Sakura smiled. "Me, too."

A shadow appeared to pass over his eyes. "But I'll probably be needing to head out early, maybe in a couple of hours, even."

"Why?"

"There were paparazzi everywhere when I grabbed Mizuki," Syaoran explained quietly, eyes focusing on a blank spot on the wall. "It's going to be a big story. I'll have to meet with my label CEO and probably Meiling, too."

Sakura bit her lip. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," he murmured, and his eyes turned back to hers now.

"Syaoran..." Sakura swallowed, and then she scooted herself slightly closer to him, and heart beating wildly, she held a hand out to touch his face. Hesitantly, she skimmed a knuckle over his cheekbone and felt a rush of relief when he did not flinch away, but rather closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. "It's okay to need people, you know. I'm not... I know I'm not the most useful person around in these situations, but if you—if you ever feel this way, you're always welcome—"

Syaoran's hand suddenly reached up to grab Sakura's, causing her to let out a surprised "oh." He smiled at her, although the shadow had not quite left his eyes.

"You really underestimate yourself, Sakura. I wouldn't say that you're not useful." He took her hand and pressed his lips against them in a soft kiss. His voice was low, but she was so close to him that she could hear him quite clearly. "I would say that I do need you."

Sakura's eyes widened and her breath hitched, and she had to force herself to remember to breathe. Of all the things she had thought might happen when she had proposed that he stay the night here, she had not expected this. Although in her wildest hopes, she had envisioned affection and intimacy between them, she had shut out the thought entirely because she had thought it impossible—but now, he had done something so sweet that it caused a physical pang in her stomach. His words reverberated in her head over and over, and in her daze, she forgot to try to memorize the feel of her hand in his.

Smiling, he let go of her hand and let out a sigh. "Maybe we really should sleep for a couple of hours. You, especially. No need for you to be awake at this hour."

Sakura nodded, still speechless, but she knew for certain that she would not fall asleep anytime soon.

"Thank you, Sakura," he said, eyes burning into hers once more for a fraction of a second before he turned out the light.

* * *

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was still weak and Sakura had finally fallen into a fitful slumber, she found herself half-waking as Syaoran pulled her into his chest, warm arms cradling her and breath soft and steady against her hair. And in her tired, delirious state, she felt no surprise or shock—just a slow rush of something pleasant coursing its way through her head and her heart, and the vague thought that this was nice, that this felt very, very natural.

* * *

When she awoke several hours later, she saw an imprint where Syaoran had lay earlier and a note on the pillow. Groggily, she reached over to grab it and s quinted at it, heart sinking as she read the two single sentences on it. She didn't know what she'd expected, but somehow, she was left feeling perhaps just as empty as Syaoran had felt the night before.

_Matsura called, so I had to head out. Thanks for everything_.

But when she turned the note over, she saw that he'd written one more line, and she felt a smile tug at her lips, disappointment buoying back up into hope.

_Don't forget what I told you last night, okay?_

* * *

"PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE _HELL_ YOU WERE THINKING LAST NIGHT."

"Matsura, _please_ keep it down," Meiling moaned, rubbing at her temples. "It is far too early and I am far too hungover for shouting."

Syaoran leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he kept his head bowed, eyes trained on the floor. He said nothing, but he felt particularly sorry for Meiling. Having to wake up at eight in the morning after partying until five to come deal with his problems could not have been fun for her.

Matsura appeared not to have heard Meiling, because his voice only seemed to grow louder. "You're not going to answer me?" he shouted. "I put _all of my faith_ in you for this comeback, and you go and pull this kind of _bullshit_, and you're not even going to bother giving me a simple _fucking_ explanation as to what drove you to willingly screw everything up last night?!"

"Matsura..." Meiling said softly, brows furrowed. "Come on, don't you think you're being a little harsh? I mean—"

"And _you_," Matsura growled, turning towards Meiling. "What exactly were you doing last night? Aren't you his manager? Where were you if you weren't doing your job?"

"Hey," Syaoran called out, glowering now. "Leave Meiling out of this. It was her night off—"

"Oh, so _now_ you're going to talk," Matsura shouted. "Syaoran, what has gotten into you?!"

Syaoran pushed himself off of the wall and moved towards Matsura, eyes narrowed, hands curled into fists, until he came face-to-face with the man. He was about half a head taller than his boss, a man who understood him so well that they rarely ever fought. And as he felt the rage build up in his chest at the irony of not being understood right now, when he needed it the most, he let it all out in a long sigh. He shook his head. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know what's gotten into me."

Matsura caught the defeat in Syaoran's eyes, in the lines on his face that seemed to have been there for far too long, particularly for someone so young and talented and _good_, and felt his anger ebb away as well. "Syaoran... Look, I know you were trying to do the right thing, okay?"

Syaoran shoved his hands in his pockets and raised his eyes to Matsura's face.

Matsura reached behind him to a stack of pictures on his desk and handed them to Syaoran. "But this is the kind of stuff that could really, _really_ ruin your career. For good. If it were a one time thing, it'd be all right, but you don't get any more strikes."

Syaoran groaned in frustration as he looked at the photos, predictably loud and sensational images of him squinting against the flashbulbs as he led a distressed Mizuki by the hand towards the street. "Why should it, though? This has nothing to _do_ with my career!"

"Look, we all know that," Matsura said gently. "But it is the path you chose... And you knew the consequences that would come with it."

Syaoran nodded. "I know."

Matsura glanced back at Meiling. He let out a sigh. "Syaoran, before you got here, Meiling and I were discussing what exactly we needed to do to rehabilitate your public image. This... This kind of thing will cause a lot of damage, I think. And it won't be easy to fix it if the paparazzi are hounding you all the time, which they will be, especially now."

Syaoran felt dread rise up to the pit of his stomach as he realized what Matsura was saying. He swallowed hard, hoping he was wrong, but somehow, he knew he wasn't... He turned to meet Meiling, who was staring at him with teary eyes now.

"So," Matsura continued, voice suddenly very tired, "we decided it'd probably be best to push back the album for a little while and send you overseas for a few months, to New York. We're going to tell the press it's for special vocal training."

Syaoran felt the breath leave him in one great woosh. He knew it had been coming, and yet, somehow, he still felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. But he couldn't fight it. He knew better. He nodded. "When?"

"As soon as possible," Matsura answered. "So we've booked you a flight for tomorrow. You'll need to go home and pack your things tonight."

* * *

That's the end of chapter twenty! I'm sorry about the terrible cliffhanger, but I've planned it out this way for a while now. School starts tomorrow, so I am not sure how frequently I can update, but I really am always thinking about this story, so I'm going to do my absolute best to write in my free time! I have a rough idea of what will happen from here, though, so that should help a bit! (Hint: it is going to be a bit chaotic, but all the good stuff happens in the chaos, right?)

Thank you guys for your reviews on the last chapter—they really were _so_ nice, and much to my delight, so many of you reviewed! I was really thrilled! I really can't thank you enough. Every chapter I write, I am always kind of flabbergasted at how many of you enjoy the story. It makes me so happy.

I had a tough time writing the scenes between Syaoran and Sakura, even though I loved writing them. Although Syaoran hasn't had a lot of time to think about it, he's quite obviously falling for her and also very, very vulnerable right now at the same time, so I felt like he'd be more inclined than usual to be affectionate towards her. I hope this hit the right balance—not too little, not too much. But I did want some really sweet scenes between them, and I know you guys did, too, so I hope this delivered! And as for Eriol and Tomoyo, I think they'll be my "smooth sailing" couple, since things are looking pretty tough for Sakura and Syaoran now. Someone's gotta be happy, right? Haha.

Please let me know what you think in a review, and thank you so much for reading!

Love,

boreum dal


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